


Me? Me Divide Us?

by crimsonvampire



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Blood, Death Threats, Demon Darryl Noveschosch (Video Blogging RPF), Dethroned Eret (Video Blogging RPF), Dethroned GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), Dream SMP (Video Blogging RPF) - Freeform, Dream Team (Video Blogging RPF) - Freeform, Dream Team Angst (Video Blogging RPF), Dream Team SMP Angst (Video Blogging RPF), Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Manipulation, Friendship, Gen, Georgenotfound Angst (Video Blogging RPF), Gore, Hurt GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), Imprisoned Clay | Dream (Video Blogging RPF), Internal Conflict, Jealous Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF), King Eret (Video Blogging RPF), King GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), Manipulation, Manipulative Clay | Dream (Video Blogging RPF), Mexican L'Manberg (Video Blogging RPF), Near Death Experiences, Pre-Exile Arc (Video Blogging RPF), Protective Alexis | Quackity (Video Blogging RPF), Protective Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF), Sapnap Angst (Video Blogging RPF), Sapnap-centric (Video Blogging RPF), Shapeshifter Alexis | Quackity (Video Blogging RPF), Twitch Chat (Video Blogging RPF), Violence, basically George's dethronement from Sapnap's POV, can you tell this has angst, dnf if you want it to be, look! you're in this too!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-19
Updated: 2021-02-19
Packaged: 2021-03-12 11:07:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 21,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29508753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crimsonvampire/pseuds/crimsonvampire
Summary: He didn't mean it, right?Dream told Tommy that he doesn't care about anything on the SMP. Sapnap's having a hard time believing it--obviously he still cares about him, right?With Dream dethroning George right before his eyes, now he's not so sure.Sapnap grabs his friend’s shoulders and forces the brunet to look him in the eye. “George,” he mutters solemnly, “he wants you to step down as king. George, you don’t have to do anything he says.”“Okay—“ A hand roughly shoves at Sapnap’s shoulder, trying to pull the two of them apart, but Sapnap doesn’t budge. This irritates Dream, who scoffs in disgust, “Sapnap, first of all, he does—“ Sapnap’s eyes narrow in anger. “Second of all, obviously George understands and he is better—““Do you understand?” Sapnap actually asks George. The brunet bites his lip.“Sapnap! Stop!” Dream shoves him, Sapnap stumbling as he’s separated from George. He catches his footing, but he’s glaring at Dream as the masked man angrily turns on him. “Why are you trying to divide us?”“Me?" He spits. “Medivide us?”Yeah, now he knows for sure. Dream doesn't care about them.
Relationships: Alexis | Quackity & GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), Alexis | Quackity & Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF), Alexis | Quackity/Karl Jacobs/Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream & GeorgeNotFound & Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream & GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream & Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF), GeorgeNotFound & Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF), Sapnap & TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 130





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> hello everyone !! :) Ever since George's dethronement, I've been wanting to write my own interpretation of it! It's the best and probably only Dream Team angst and George lore we'll ever get so... Might as well take advantage of it and make it as angsty as possible
> 
> we ignore the real reason why George got dethroned (f's in the chat)
> 
> please keep in mind that the 1st chapter of this is basically the entire fic. The 2nd chapter is a sort of "epilogue" in George's point of view that is only 1k words
> 
> also, please be respectful to me and DON'T share this fic with any of the CC's! that's all :) hope you enjoy!!

“No, Sapnap! Stop killing the spiders!” George complains, immediately diving out of his cranny to shove Sapnap away from the spider enclosure and kill them before he can get a swing on them.

Sapnap chuckles but says nothing, trying to pry George’s hand from his face. George is resilient, though, so Sapnap gives up and instead loops around the fence to try the other side.

This earns him an aggravated groan and another shove as George once again jumps between him and the spiders. “Sapnap!”

“Okay, okay, I’ll stop,” he snickers, hands raised in surrender. He backs up under George’s withering gaze and instead takes a seat on the nearby ender chest. This relaxes the brunet enough to turn back to the spider spawner, finish the rest of the spiders off, and return to his little nook as he beckons more spiders to the opening.

Luminescent butterflies flutter around George’s shoulders as he rejoins them in the nook, and he hums to them, murmuring something under his breath along the lines of “I know, he’s so annoying.” Sapnap scoffs, a smirk tugging at his lips as he watches them converse.

For some reason, everyone on the Dream SMP has these otherworldly beings that follow them around and comment on what they’re doing—everyone refers to them as “chat.” No one knows where they came from, but no one complains.

Sapnap likes them. The weird thing about it all, though, is that chat speaks to him through fire, so it’s only natural that people start to refer to him as a pyromaniac when they notice his fascination with burning stuff. But can you blame him? It’s just endearing to place a torch down and suddenly hear happy greetings come from out of the blue.

They’re cute, but they’re not as elegant as George’s chat, who speak to him in the form of glowing butterflies. Sapnap watches them from where he sits, smiling as they dance around George’s shoulders and keep him entertained as he waits for more mobs. He’s giggling, whipping his head around to try and keep up with them. It’s cute, in a way.

Sapnap glances over to the far side of the room. While the two of them have been fooling around, Dream has been on the other side, silent and leaning up against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest and his focus directed entirely to the floor. He’s been lost in thought ever since they arrived, either replying to Sapnap and George’s comments distractedly or not at all. It’s not unusual for him—he thinks a lot. Sometimes a little too much. He seems to overanalyze everything, in Sapnap’s opinion.

Like, right now he’s probably overanalyzing the situation that just went down today with L’Manberg. Dream had confronted them about Tommy’s little stunt on George’s house, threatening to exile the blond if he didn’t clean up his act. They’re gonna have a meeting in a couple days to negotiate it.

Personally, Sapnap thought it to be a harsh punishment, but he isn’t that surprised by the threat. Dream has been waiting for the perfect excuse to get back at Tommy—for what specific reason exactly, Sapnap isn’t exactly sure—and Tommy certainly gave him one.

What an idiot, going after George. Doesn’t he know that Dream and George…?

Sapnap huffs, laughing to himself about Tommy’s stupidity and continuing to watch George and his chat.

It’s at this moment, however, that Dream decides to snap out of his thoughts. “George,” he speaks up. The two of them both turn to him apprehensively. Despite his level voice, his tone reeks of disapproval. This can’t be good.

“Yeah, Dream?” George asks. To any regular person, his voice is as monotone as it usually sounds, but Sapnap can hear the slight edge to his voice.

“Why’d you tear down the L’Mantree?”

Sapnap blinks. Oh? He turns to George, fixing the current king of the SMP a questioning stare. But his expression continues to be as passive as usual. He doesn’t seem to care about the newly established tension in the air.

He shrugs, “chat told me to.” The luminescent butterflies prove George’s excuse to be true by jittering in the air with merriment, and he turns to exchange a giggle with them.

Dream isn’t so amused, however, still leaning against the wall with a distinct frown on his face. He studies George and his fairies for a couple seconds before commenting, “you shouldn’t be getting involved in their problems, George. I told you I would handle everything.”

Sapnap tenses slightly at his tone. That sounds like a warning.

George’s smile drops. He stops to consider Dream.

The tension in the air is slight, but it’s there. George wills it to be there, unperturbed by Dream’s threat. He hates being told what to do—Sapnap knows that too well by now—so neither of them are surprised when he breaks the silence with a careless and nonchalant, “okay,” only to turn his back on them to swing at more spiders. Obviously, he disagrees, but doesn’t find it worth his time to argue back.

Dream says nothing to that. Sapnap glances over at him, and the masked man tilts his head in his direction for a split second before directing his gaze back down to the ground.

They both know that George will get involved anyway.

* * *

“God, I really hope this all goes well.”

Sapnap hums, unsure of what to say in response to Quackity’s nervous chatter. He offered to walk his fiancé over to where he and L’Manberg would be having a meeting with Dream regarding Tommy’s exile, but Sapnap has realized that it’ll be kind of awkward for him, given that he’s friends with both sides. He leaves a mental note to separate from Quackity as soon as he sees the others.

“I’m sure it will,” he offers, unhelpfully. Still, Quackity shoots him a weak smile.

“You don’t know Tommy. He’s unpredictable. He doesn’t follow rules he doesn’t agree with.”

Sapnap huffs a single breath of laughter. Quackity isn’t aware of just how well Sapnap knows Tommy. Ever since Tommy arrived at the Dream SMP, they’ve had disagreement after disagreement. Sapnap’s always hated how annoying Tommy was, and Tommy’s always hated him back. They’ve _always_ hated each other’s guts.

But he’s started to grow on Sapnap. Maybe it was after witnessing his bravery and selflessness during the Manberg vs. Pogtopia War, or especially after he offered to end the Pet Wars peacefully, once and for all, but either way, Sapnap’s actually grown to respect Tommy, and he can’t help but feel uneasy about how today’s proceedings may carry out.

“That’s true,” Sapnap comments lamely. He’s not good at this stuff.

Quackity seems to have noticed that, too, because he doesn’t say anything more the whole rest of the way there. He just mutters to himself and wrings his hands in worry. Sapnap is tempted to reach over and hold one of them just to get him to stop being so anxious, but as soon as he starts to, the others have come into view. He freezes immediately.

“I have to go,” he blurts out.

Quackity stops, too, turning around when he realizes that Sapnap is no longer by his side. He shoots him another weak smile, “okay. Mind dropping by my place before nightfall? I want to chill a little bit before George and I do our usual hang out tonight.”

“Sure.” Sapnap spots movement out of the corner of his eye, and looks up to find Punz settling comfortably on one of the balconies of Eret’s tower. What’s he doing up there? Is he—wait. Sapnap turns back to Quackity, “I, uh, hope it goes well for you, babe. I’ll see you after all this is over with.”

“Kay. See ya.” Quackity spins on his heel and jogs over to where the others are shuffling around nervously. His uncomfortable smile has been burned permanently into Sapnap’s retinas.

Sapnap sighs, but doesn’t dwell on it. Pulling an enderpearl from his pockets, he chucks it up to where Punz is stationed. The blond notices it immediately, watching it descend onto the wooden planks beside him and become replaced with Sapnap, who is instantly gazing at him in curiosity.

“What are you doing up here, Punz? Don’t you have a yard to revamp?” He carelessly plops down beside him, swinging his feet off the edge as he waits for Punz to reply.

The blond shrugs, eyes trained on the nervous citizens of L’Manberg below them. “Sure, but I wanted to see how this was gonna proceed. Dream’s been awfully giddy all day.”

Just as he says that, Dream appears, leisurely strolling up to the citizens of L’Manberg and waving them inside the meeting room.

“Why not join them inside, then?” Sapnap asks.

“Can’t—Dream said so.”

Sapnap huffs, but says nothing to that. Whatever Dream says goes, as usual.

Minutes go by, but it isn’t long after the negotiators have gone into the building that Sapnap gets bored of just sitting and staring at the door, waiting for it to reopen. He groans, falling back and tucking his arms behind his head in order to cloud gaze.

He could leave, honestly. He doesn’t have to be here. But what better things does he have to do anyway? All his friends are busy. Might as well hang with Punz and relish in his silent company.

Sapnap snickers when he hears Tommy’s muffled shouts come from inside the building. The boy doesn’t seem particularly distressed, just making nervous conversation like he always does, but still, the sound isn’t necessarily reassuring.

It’s only after 15 minutes that they all reemerge, and it certainly isn’t in a way that Sapnap expects.

The door slams open, and Sapnap jumps at the sound of Tommy cackling. He snaps upright just in time to see the boy exiting the building with a large grin on his face, quickly being followed by the other citizens of L’Manberg, who are also cheering.

Pulling up the rear is Dream. His shoulders are noticeably tense.

Sapnap’s breath hitches. No way...

“Huh,” Punz comments, the disappointment clear in his voice. “Well, that’s interesting.”

“What’d they do?” Sapnap gapes, reeling at the sound of Tommy shouting, “the fall of Dream!” What? He runs a disbelieving hand through his raven locks. “How’d they outsmart him?” He doesn’t particularly expect an answer to any of these questions, but when Punz doesn’t say anything, he turns to him. “Do you think he needs us down there with him?”

“No,” Punz quickly rejects Sapnap’s suggestion. “Not yet. Be prepared if he gives any sort of signal, though.” Sapnap nods sharply and turns back to watch the scene play out, hand already going to grip at the handle of his sword.

So they sit there and silently watch as the citizens of L’Manberg lead Dream over to the obsidian wall that surrounds their country, jabbing at him with their taunting smirks and overconfident comments. Tommy, who was leading the way, turns around to raise an eyebrow at Dream, then laughs mockingly when the god steps up to the walls with a netherite pickaxe in hand.

Sapnap and Punz gasp at the sound of obsidian crumbling apart with the force of Dream’s pickaxe. No way… He’s taking down the walls. They actually did it… They outsmarted Dream.

Sapnap isn’t sure if he should be delighted at the sight of Quackity’s grin, or uneasy at the sight of Dream’s clear rage.

Stunned, the two of them can only gawk as Dream slowly erodes the walls away from L’Manberg while its citizens dance around him in elation. It’s a slow going process, but they seem to be enjoying every minute of it.

It’s only as Quackity is taking off his clothes to start dancing in his underwear that Dream actually pauses for a second, considering the group silently. Then almost immediately, seeming to have to come to some sort of conclusion, he starts to replace the obsidian.

“What is happening?” Sapnap once again says to no one in particular. His confusion is joined by the citizens, who instantly squawk in bewilderment. Their complaints only heighten in intensity when Dream unexpectedly starts to build the wall higher.

“Oh, he’s pissed,” Punz comments.

Sapnap gulps.

He sure is.

Dream drops down from the walls, immediately stepping up to Tommy’s face. The blond doesn’t move. Then, Dream speaks and practically slaps Sapnap across the face. “Listen, you fucked up this time,” he snaps, words enunciated and voice loud enough for Sapnap and Punz to hear him clearly from where they sit.

He’s angry. And well, it’s not anything Sapnap hasn’t seen before, but it doesn’t make it any more pleasant. Especially considering how calm and confident Dream normally is when dealing with adversaries. They’ve really set him off this time.

“I don’t give a _fuck_ about Spirit—“ Sapnap gasps. Spirit? “—I don’t give a fuck about anything, actually! I care about your discs.” Dream takes a breath, before pressing on more aggressively. “I care more about your discs than you do! That’s the only thing I care about on this earth, actually!”

Sapnap blinks. What…?

“I don’t care about Spirit; Spirit was my horse,” Dream carelessly waves his arm to the side, as if dismissing the thought, “died ages ago.” He steps forward to jab a finger into Tommy’s chest. “I care about your discs, ‘cause that’s what gives me power over _you_ and _your friends_ and _everybody_ you care about. Because you care about your discs more than anyone else here.

“So, if you are not exiled from L’Manberg,” Dream violently gestures at the walls behind him, “I will build these walls until they reach the sky limit. I will keep everybody inside, I will hire guards—Punz and Sapnap—“ the aforementioned guards stiffen in their seats “—to patrol all around the entire walls, keeping everyone inside. No trade, no one leaves, no armor, or they get _slaughtered_ inside.”

There’s a beat of silence, only being taken up by the sound of Dream’s heavy breathing. His chin is upturned as he stares down at Tommy. As if in finality, he spits, “don’t try and threaten me!” There’s a beat. “I don’t care.” And another. “I have lost all care for anything on this land—“

Tommy seems to interrupt Dream with a threat, but he doesn’t get very far before Dream shouts, “burn Spirit—right in front of me—right now!”

“Well, this is the only thing you’ve had attachment to this entire time! How do I know you’re not fucking lying—?”

At this point, Sapnap has filtered out their argument. He’s staring at Dream, replaying his words through his head.

_“I don’t give a fuck about anything, actually!”_

_“I don’t care. I have lost all care for anything on this land—“_

There, his best friend stands. His shoulders are squared in an act of intimidation. He’s looking down on Tubbo and Tommy with his eyes narrowed in an icy glare. His lips are pressed in a thin line. His eyebrows are pinched, and yet quiver slightly in their rage. He scowls, his green eyes staring unfaltering—

Sapnap blinks at the mask which obscures his best friend’s face. He’s had it on this entire time.

Dream turns on his heel. As he goes to continue adding to the height of the walls, his moves are precise. Calculated. Sharp. He’s always thinking one step ahead, knowing what actions he wants to take. And when he knows, he sticks to his decision. He’s confident. He’s never unsure of what he does.

No, he’s never unsure of what he does.

Or of what he says.

* * *

Sapnap is cloud gazing again.

Well, actually, he’s thinking. He’s been doing that a lot recently. He wants to say it’s no big deal, but it _has_ been a bit excessive. He didn’t go to Quackity’s last night—he was too busy thinking.

He feels bad about that.

It’s kind of ironic how Sapnap used to make fun of Dream for always being too busy with his thoughts. The raven haired man could never understand what could be so important so as to spend hours upon hours just thinking about things.

Sapnap now understands.

The clouds float high above him as he lays, perched on the sky-scraping walls of L’Manberg, with his ankle propped up on his thigh and arms tucked behind his head. It’s a great place to spend lots of time with only one’s thoughts to keep them company. It’s quiet—it’s peaceful.

That is, until he hears a sort of exaggerated cackle and several loud splashes below him. He’s snapped out of his train of thought, turning his head to the side to investigate the source of the noise.

It’s Tommy, bobbing in the river and laughing to himself with sand in his hands.

Well, isn’t he looking awfully cheerful. That’s weird. Wasn’t he just exiled?

Sapnap swings his legs over the side and drops down, netherite boots absorbing his fall as he lands in a kneeling position. There’s a sudden splash and a frantic, “shit!” that occurs right in front of him, and getting to his feet, he locks eyes with a suddenly very alarmed Tommy.

“What’re you doing here, Tommy?” Sapnap asks, unsheathing his sword and propping it on his shoulder in an act of intimidation. “You’re outside the walls. I don’t think that’s allowed.”

Tommy relaxes in the slightest before letting out a very dramatic groan and pelting a wet glob of sand onto Sapnap’s chest plate. “Oh, go think about boobs or something, Sapnap!”

Sapnap blinks, trying to process what he just said, but the boy has already turned his back on him to bob away, unbothered. Miffed, Sapnap follows him along the shoreline and tries again. “I don’t think this is allowed, Tommy. I’m pretty sure I was ordered to kill you if I found you outside the walls.”

“What?” Tommy whips his head around to shoot Sapnap a bewildered look. He shakes his head, “no, that’s only if I get exiled! And I’m not exiled yet! That’s gonna be decided in two days!”

“Oh—“

“And I’m not gonna get exiled, thank you very much!” Tommy boldly claims, aiming a dirty look at him before diving down into the water. Sapnap blinks again and drops down onto his haunches in order to peer in and get a better idea of what Tommy’s actually doing underneath. From what it looks like, with the use of a diamond shovel, he’s collecting sand from the bottom of the river.

For what reason, Sapnap doesn’t know. Still, he waits for the blond to reemerge, who in turn takes a large gulp of air and clumsily slaps his plastered down hair out his face. He scowls when he notices that Sapnap hasn’t left.

He smirks at his displeasure. Man, when was the last time he messed with him like this? “You’re gonna get exiled, Tommy, I guarantee you. I mean,” he pauses to chuckle, “imagine that: your best friend exiling you.”

Sapnap doesn’t try to stifle his laughs in any way, but the loud retorts he expects to hear don’t come, and he falters in his snickering. Stopping, he looks over at Tommy, only to find his uncharacteristic silence joined by a tight frown.

Tommy’s voice is low and serious as he mutters, “listen, I’m gonna make it up to him. I was a little _much_ last night, and I’m gonna make it up to him.”

Sapnap blinks at him, dumbfounded.

Well, that’s unexpected.

The boy wades out of the river, not even acknowledging Sapnap as he steps up onto the shore and starts back toward the entrance of L’Manberg. This must be where they part ways, then. Sapnap stands up and follows at a distance, ready to leave as soon as Tommy steps foot back inside the walls of L’Manberg.

But Tommy only continues, talking over his shoulder, “and since we’re pals now—wait, no, we aren’t. No, I thought we were gonna be good pals, but instead you’ve been sucking up to Dream.“

Sapnap bristles at that. Dream’s words from yesterday resurface in his mind—about how he doesn’t care about anything on this earth anymore.

Sapnap has half a mind to try and convince Tommy that he’s no longer so sure about how he feels about Dream, but he remembers his best friend’s tense shoulders and threats of making Punz and him patrol the area. He decides against it and instead shrugs, “I mean, orders are orders, man—”

“You’ve been kiss-assing, man,” Tommy continues, unperturbed by Sapnap’s hesitation and thus blissfully unaware of the internal conflict going on inside the raven haired man’s head. Sapnap sputters, instantly denying Tommy’s accusations, but the boy ignores those, too.

“You’re a kiss-ass. You’re a teacher’s pet. You’re Dream’s little pet-boy—“ he cuts himself off—and just in time, too. Sapnap was about ready to grab him by his ankles and chuck him back into the river—and turns his head towards the walls. Suddenly, he calls out, “oi, what the fuck?”

Sapnap raises his eyebrows. Pausing to follow Tommy’s line of sight up to the top of the walls, he finds Punz adding another layer of obsidian to them, increasing their height by another foot.

“What the fuck?” Tommy repeats, practically steaming with rage. “It’s not even fucking exile day!” He stomps his foot, throwing an astounded look over at Sapnap and gesturing wildly at Punz. It’s like an entitled little boy who’d just been told he’s only be getting one slice of cake instead of two. “Who is this bitch?”

Sapnap stutters, struggling for an answer, but Tommy doesn’t even bother to wait for one. He resumes his march on over to the entrance of L’Manberg, all the while shouting profanities in Punz’s direction, “go fuck yourself! Go fuck yourself!”

“Well, I don’t know about that,” Sapnap chides, eyebrows furrowing in disapproval.

“I’ll make him an orphan,” Tommy mutters darkly under his breath. “You ever killed someone’s parents?” He suddenly asks, shooting a hopeful glance over his shoulder at Sapnap, as if genuinely interested to hear his response. He even pauses, after noticing that Sapnap hasn’t moved, to watch for him to catch up.

The raven haired man blinks. What’s going on? Tommy’s actually making an effort to make conversation with Sapnap despite all the shit the boy’s been through because of him? Even after Sapnap just threatened to kill him for being outside the walls?

Who is he to say no, though? Dream would be teasing him for being such a softie right now, but hey, he is a softie! He’ll gladly admit it! Who is he to say no to people who genuinely appreciate his company?

It makes him feel all warm and fuzzy inside.

Trying to stifle the smile on his face, he hurries after Tommy with a nonchalant response of “eh, a few times.”

And for the first time since yesterday, any thoughts of Dream or abandonment have completely disappeared from Sapnap’s head and instead been replaced with Tommy’s pressing questions and vulgar comments.

It’s distracting—it’s relieving. He feels unburdened. Tommy really isn’t as bad as Sapnap originally thought. He’s actually quite a lot of fun to be around.

And before he knows it, he’s following Tommy around like a lost, little puppy dog, accompanying him into the ruined terrain beneath L’Manberg and even tagging along as Tommy takes a brief detour onto the roofs. What can he say? He’s excited about this new friendship.

It’s as he’s watching Tommy build a new house underneath Ranboo’s property that Sapnap feels the need to draw attention to this little bond they’ve created. He picks up a couple planks that Tommy has haphazardly strewn across the floor and props them up as a wall, happily stating, “and we’ll put these planks right here to remember our friendship.”

Hopeful, he turns to gauge Tommy’s reaction. But the blond, seemingly unimpressed, looks between the planks and Sapnap before remarking, “Sapnap, you literally greeted me today by threatening to kill me.”

It’s like a slap to the face. And unfortunately, it’s true. He hates that Tommy’s actually right about that.

Of course Tommy doesn’t feel the same excitement Sapnap does—Sapnap’s just being a big softie, as usual.

Sputtering, the raven haired man suddenly becomes very interested in the wooden flooring beneath him. “W-Well, don’t worry about it—“

“No, I don’t want planks here, I want logs here!” Tommy instantly drops the previous topic in order to criticize Sapnap’s choice, tearing down the planks to replace them with logs instead. Sapnap continues to sputter, so thrown off by Tommy’s brutal honesty that he has no idea how to respond.

The boy groans at the other’s inability to recover. Stubbornly propping up the logs that he believes are superior to Sapnap’s wholesome addition, Tommy shakes his head and unabashedly comments, “oh my god, I wish you were blind.”

Oh—

Sapnap tenses, the insult feeling like a stab to the chest. Physically coiling in on himself, a meager whine leaves his lips as he averts his sullen gaze to the side, away from the scene. He didn’t like hearing that at all.

Tommy, apparently having heard the whine, stops dead in his tracks. He whirls around in an instant, eyebrows disappearing into his hairline at the sight of Sapnap’s sudden depression. Unaware of what to say, he cackles nervously before babbling, “I-I take it back, I’m sorry, Sapnap, I’m sorry.”

Oh.

The actual sincerity in his voice catches Sapnap off guard. _Why_ does he sound so sincere? Does he actually feel bad for his harmless little comment?

He looks up at Tommy, only to be even more surprised to find a genuinely concerned smile on the boy’s face. It doesn’t last very long, seeing as Tommy instantly hobbles away to check on the sand he’s been smelting in the furnace, but it was long enough for Sapnap to acknowledge it.

Why? How can he just care about Sapnap’s feelings like that? He should hate him—it would be justified. Sapnap has done terrible things to him, so why does he care about how he feels?

Sapnap is in his thoughts again. He thinks about friendships, new and old. They confuse him.

Tommy notices his silence and tries to get him engaged in the conversation again. He blurts out stupid stuff and shoots frequent glances at the raven haired man to see if they’re effective. They never really are, though, causing his smile to quickly drop from his face.

Before he gets a chance to comment on it, however, the sudden sight of Philza coming out of his home next-door prompts Tommy to enthusiastically shout his name and hurry on over to get his attention. Sapnap watches on from over his shoulder.

Tommy is excitedly hopping around Phil, hooping and hollering about “beer” and “marijuana,” and remaining completely unaware of Phil’s noticeable discomfort and flustered expression. Eventually, he finally calms down in the slightest and asks what the man’s up to. Phil, in turn, points to a side opening in the walls of L’Manberg with a sheepish grin on his face, and the boy follows his line of sight.

The smile on his face falls and, without warning, he screams.

Scrambling, he sprints back over to Sapnap while frantically shouting, “Sapnap! Sapnap! Sapnap!”

Sapnap hops to his feet, immediately alert. “What? What? What?”

“Bad news! Bad news! Bad news!” He says, ducking back into his unfinished house. Before Sapnap has a chance to register Tommy’s approach, the boy’s huddling close to him, all the while keeping a careful eye on Phil.

Sapnap rolls with it, immediately assuming the role of his protector. He doesn’t have time to consider his options, anyway, because Phil just suited up in his netherite armor and armor isn’t allowed in L’Manberg.

He also chooses to not acknowledge his own netherite armor.

“I know who the traitor is! I know who the traitor is—wait, no, that’s not even—I know who the traitor is—there’s a traitor! There’s a sus—there’s sus—!”

Tommy’s not making any sense. “Wait, there’s what? What’s going on?” Sapnap honestly has no idea what he just said. The boy’s eyes are blown out of their sockets as he speaks a mile a minute, and even now as Sapnap is trying to talk, he’s still muttering under his breath. “Slow down, Tommy, slow down!”

“It’s Technoblade! He’s wanted! And Philza—“ Tommy cuts himself off, too overwhelmed by this sudden development. He drops his head into his hands.

Technoblade? He’s here? And he’s wanted?

Oh, this is getting interesting. Sapnap’s heartbeat quickens at the potential for confrontation.

“What do we do, Tommy? Should we kill him?” He asks, unable to restrain the smile from his face.

Tommy’s head shoots up, eyes wide. “No, we can’t kill him! No no no no no—“

“I mean, we can kill him, come on—“

They’re talking over each other, now.

Too stimulated by the sudden conflict and too motivated to fix it, they’re unwilling to wait for the other to finish. But it’s especially as the blood god himself walks into view that they really start to freak out. They’re shouting now, but before either of them can properly consider their next move, Tommy has immediately started walking towards him.

Sapnap follows with his heart beating excitedly in his throat.

Tommy stomps up to them, going completely unnoticed by Technoblade up until the god catches Philza’s eye and turns around to see what’s got the man so hesitant.

It’s like being dumped in ice water.

Technoblade is in his godly pig form, the power he possesses flowing off of him in droves of intimidating energy as he towers over both Tommy and Sapnap like the obsidian walls tower over L’Manberg. His netherite armor gleams in the sunlight but still appear as mere accessories to his thorned crown and billowing cape. He’s staring at the two of them uncaringly, unperturbed by their presence. But the glare he’s fixed onto Sapnap feels like it’s slowly starting to obliterate his bones from the inside. And for once in the time he’s worn netherite armor, Sapnap feels small.

Tommy remains unfazed, however—apparently desensitized to Technoblade’s aura. In fact, he marches right on into Techno’s business and shoves a passionate finger way too close to his snout, already exclaiming, “what are you doing in L’Manberg, Technoblade? I hate you! I hate you! You’re ugly! You’re ugly—!”

Sapnap blinks. What the hell?

In conjunction, Technoblade doesn’t even appear to bothered by his prodding, having not moved away in the slightest. He instead places a hoof on Tommy’s chest and pushes him away to arms length. “Tommy, I’m trying to do something here—“

“You can’t keep saying that, bro!” Tommy insists. His tone is no longer angry, more so mocking. “Every time I accompanied you in Pogtopia, you’d go, ‘it’s my free time, TommyInnit! My name’s Technoblade and I’m above everyone and I-I—‘“ Tommy, now circling Technoblade, struggles to maintain his train of thought as the blood god starts to retort loudly. “‘—I-I love little penis and I’m above everyone else—‘“

Sapnap guffaws. Philza lets out a “what—!” Techno blurts out a very stunned, “HEH—?” Tommy cackles.

They go right back to bickering.

And in the midst of all this, Sapnap can only watch.

He watches as Tommy, who just a few seconds ago was quivering at the thought of confronting Technoblade, tramps around and rambles on and on about what features about Technoblade irritate him the most.

All he seems to be doing is taunting the guy, even though, a few weeks ago, Technoblade had released withers in a country that he held dear to his heart, and threatened to kill him. He should be enraged. He should be pissed—it’s strange. It’s weird. It’s like they don’t actually hate each other. Like, no matter what happens, they’ll still like each other. Like—

_“You’re so dumb,” Dream chuckles, giving a particularly rough shove._

—Sapnap’s chest tightens uncomfortably.

He continues to silently watch from afar.

He isn’t jostled from his thoughts until long after Philza and Techno have disappeared into the former’s home, Tommy resuming his construction of his house while Sapnap watches from the crafting table that is shoved up against the newly installed glass panes.

“You don’t say much, do you?”

Sapnap perks up at Tommy’s voice, acknowledging the boy scrutinizing him. Sapnap shifts uncomfortably at the sudden attention, shrugging his shoulders, “I don’t know, I just like to listen.”

“You’re so shy! Why you so shy?” Tommy instantly demands.

“No, no, I’m not shy, that was just not my place to speak,” Sapnap reasons. And in his opinion, that’s perfectly valid. “That was all you, and, I mean, you smoked it.”

Tommy pauses at that. Seemingly unimpressed with Sapnap’s excuse, his calculating expression doesn’t even leave the other’s face. In fact, his eyes only seem to narrow further in response.

Finally, he sighs and tosses his hands up in the air in exasperation. “I don’t get it, man. I thought you hated me. You just threatened to kill me, you’re clearly buddy-buddy with Dream, I griefed George’s house—why are you still acting all supportive n shit?”

Sapnap raises his eyebrows, but all he can do is shrug once again, “I-I’m not acting, I-I just—“ He idly kicks at the ground. “I don’t know, I just don’t think you’re all that bad, Tommy. Not anymore, at least. I mean, sure, you griefed George’s house, but he gets over stuff quickly, so I’m not about to be mad on behalf of him. Dream does enough of that for us.

“A-and you’re already getting punished, so what more is there for me to do? What else can I do except enforce Dream’s punishment?”

Tommy’s eyebrows furrow at that. A couple beats of silence go by before he finally responds, “…be your own person? Form your own opinions?”

Sapnap frowns at that. Well, of course he’s his own person. It’s not like Dream is telling him who to be or what to believe or anything. He’s just telling him what to do. What rules he wants enforced. And he doesn’t take no for an answer.

No, he never takes no for an answer.

Even if Sapnap is the one saying no.

He doesn’t care about Sapnap’s input. He doesn’t care about it at all, actually. He just doesn’t care. He doesn’t care. He doesn’t—

“Tommy I—“ Sapnap glares at the ground, making sure that he really does want to ask an old enemy for advice. “I actually have a question.”

Tommy raises his eyebrows, but apart from that, says nothing. Sapnap takes that as his cue to continue. He nervously adjusts the wrist straps of his armor as he speaks, “yesterday, when Dream was getting real mad at you, he said he didn’t… He said he didn’t care about anything.” He frowns at his wrist, “but surely he cares about me, right?”

Apprehensive, he glances up. Tommy’s scowling at the ground, his nose scrunched up in an expression of disgust. He blinks at Sapnap for a second before averting his gaze back to the ground.

Sapnap’s heart sinks. No way. “Right, Tommy?” He tries again. “Surely he does, right?”

Tommy’s scowl has not left his face. This time, however, he takes a placating breath and carefully sounds out, “he cares about George, if that makes you feel any better.”

Sapnap scoffs, stuttering out a response that yeah, of course he does, “but surely he cares about me, as well, right?” He’s fiddling with his wrist strap again, unable to look Tommy in the eye as he mumbles,“cause, like, we’re best friends, y’know? H-He definitely cares about me, right?”

Tommy is once again silent, and Sapnap peeks up at him to see the unsure expression on his face. Eventually, the boy manages to spit out a “yes,” but he doesn’t quite seem to believe it himself.

“Tommy,” Sapnap says, straightening up in his chair. “C’mon, you can give it to me straight. I’m tough—“

“He doesn’t care about you.”

Sapnap’s eyes widen. Wha—?

He feels like he’s been submerged in an ice bath, body frozen in place and temperature dropping to dangerous degrees. Tommy wasted no time in blurting that out. He really does believe that. And he doesn’t stop there, either.

“You’re just one of his many bitches,” he bluntly states, then narrows his eyes in unease.

“…oh,” Sapnap’s gaze drops to the ground. “…oh.” He blinks. Suddenly self-conscious, he tries to cover up his hurt feelings by turning away from Tommy, trying to distract himself with the outside and convince the blond that he actually doesn’t care. “W-Well, th-that’s okay, right? I-I mean, that’s fine.”

There’s a beat before, “well, it’s very sad,” Tommy admits. He really doesn’t sugarcoat things, huh.

Sapnap tries to wave a dismissive hand, but it’s jerky and pairs nicely with his stutter. “I mean, bu—Th-that—“ His mouth opens and closes as he struggles to form a response. He shrugs, unable to mask the hurt in his voice as he admits, “that’s fine by me, y’know?”

Tommy reacts immediately, letting out a pitiful coo and taking a hesitant step forward. Sapnap turns at the sound of his sympathy, finding the boy’s eyebrows upturned in concern and an unsure curl to his lips. He’s reaching out with a gentle, outstretched hand, as if wanting to go over and provide comfort to Sapnap.

Despite this, he remains rooted to his spot and instead lets out a sympathetic, “I’m sorry, Sapnap.”

“N-no, it—it’s fine,” Sapnap says, immediately trying to reassure Tommy. Concern doesn’t look good on Tommy’s face, not when it’s directed at Sapnap—it makes him uncomfortable. Like he’s manipulating Tommy into making him feel bad for him—to feel bad for his enemy.

“I-I’m just gonna go now,” Sapnap says, getting to his feet. He tries to recover some of his confidence by unsheathing his sword and propping it on his shoulder, but the action doesn’t uplift him as much as it usually does.

Tommy’s expression is downcast as he nods, “right. No problem.”

Sapnap grimaces. God, he’s so sad. And so small.

He’s 16, and he’s about to be exiled? Dream’s really gonna send this teen far from his home as punishment for a crime that George doesn’t even care about anymore? Maybe Sapnap should do something. Make it up to Tommy for dealing with Sapnap today. And for dealing with him in all the previous conflicts Sapnap’s started. It’s the least he can do.

Alright, he’ll get started on that.

He smiles sadly, “I’ll see you around, Tommy. Stay out of trouble, okay?”

Tommy’s lips quirk up in a slight grin, and he’s waving as he crouches down to retrieve more planks to put in his house. “You too, Sapnap. I’ll see you later.”

Neither of them yet know, however, that days after it gets finished, the house is never lived in again.

* * *

It’s warm inside.

The sun has started to set, but the orange rays that normally filter through the window panes and bask the spruce wood interior in a golden light are gone. A shadow looms over Quackity’s house in L’Manberg instead—it’s a new addition.

And an unwelcome one, too.

Sapnap is staring up at the ceiling. His neck is uncomfortably tipped back as he sits with his legs propped up on the dining table, but he doesn’t care. He’s too busy drowning in his own thoughts to notice.

There’s the click of the front door opening and unabashed laughter filtering through, and he’s suddenly jolted out of his thoughts. Perking up, he watches as George enters the house and immediately spots Sapnap.

“Oh, Sapnap’s here!” George comments, a smile on his face.

Sapnap hears Quackity gasp and watches as he hurries in, shoving George out of the way in the process. The brunet scoffs in annoyance as he’s pushed past. “He is?” Quackity cries. His eyes land on Sapnap and he grins, “Sapnap, hey!”

They’re in good spirits. He can’t help but suddenly feel like his dejection is out of place.

“Hey,” he murmurs. “What have you two been up to?”

“Nothing, really, we just met up to go prank the SMP. Did you wanna come?” Quackity asks, not having caught onto Sapnap’s melancholy mood yet.

“No, don’t let him come. He’s gonna ruin the fun,” George comments, shutting the front door.

“I’m good,” Sapnap mutters.

With that, George finally catches onto his misery. He shoots a skeptical glance over his shoulder. “What’s going on, Sapnap? What are you in a mood for?”

Sapnap shrugs, averting his eyes to the outside. There’s nothing but a black view out there.

Quackity raises his eyebrows his response, looking between George and Sapnap in curiosity. Then it dawns on him, and his voice turns solemn, “is it about what happened yesterday?”

Sapnap says nothing to that, allowing Quackity to put the pieces together himself.

The silence that follows proves that Quackity has made the connection.

“What? What happened yesterday?” George asked, joining them around the table.

Of course he doesn’t know. He never bothers to keep up with these sorta things.

Sapnap sighs, irritated. Just as he opens his mouth to explain the situation, however, George rushes past him. “Sapnap!” He exclaims, miffed. “Why did you put your sword on the countertop? When was the last time you washed this? You’re dirtying up the counter—!”

“No, George,” Sapnap insists, immediately getting out of his chair and turning to him. “I need to tell you something. C’mere.” He steps forward and tugs George back over to the table. “Look at me in my eyes.”

George, being so light even with his armor on, is easily pulled back without much resistance. His eyebrows are furrowed in response to the manhandling, but he obliges Sapnap’s request with a glare. “What? What?”

“Dream said—I-I’m pissed,” Sapnap shakes his head, trying to handle his sudden rush of anger. “Dream said he doesn’t care about anything on this earth, so that means he doesn’t care about us,” he finally spits out.

George freezes, eyebrows raised in shock, but he doesn’t say anything.

Sapnap continues, “he said that, dude. He doesn’t care about us, dude—we’re on our own.”

The words slip out before Sapnap can reconsider them. Of course, they’ve always been there—a worrisome thought he’s shoved away with the excuse that there’s no way that Dream would actually abandon them. But with Tommy’s brutal honesty, he’s come to accept it as true. Dream really doesn’t care about them.

George is still silent.

“So you can’t just leave me behind,” Sapnap says. He’s pleading, they both know it. They won’t admit it, though, knowing that Sapnap’s too headstrong to admit it. “You gotta add me to these things. Because you’re all I got.” He spots Quackity out of the corner of his eye and adds on, “and Quackity.”

He winces at the suddenly overwhelming fear of loneliness that’s been pooling in his gut since the start of all this. “Mexican L’Manberg is all I have,” he murmurs.

George is still stock still, mouth parted slightly in shock. He still hasn’t said anything, but Sapnap is too overcome with emotion to say anything more to fill the silence. He abruptly hangs his head and drops George’s arm, shoving him away jerkily. The brunet lets himself stumble. Sapnap stares at his feet, trying to will himself not to cry. He’s _not_ a softie.

Eventually, George speaks up. “He said that?” His words are coated with disbelief.

He doesn’t believe Sapnap.

Of course he doesn’t.

Sapnap sniffs. “Yeah, George.”

Silence.

Damn it, George. Why doesn’t he just say something? He’s gotta believe him.

“Y’know, George, I just—” Sapnap struggles to find the right words. He needs to convince him that Dream really doesn’t care. But what can he tell him? George is stubborn and cares more about Dream than anything else in this world.

The words die in his throat. He gives up. “I don’t know, George. I just don’t know.”

Still, silence.

“Listen,” Quackity speaks up. Sapnap looks up to meet his eyes. He’s got that determined expression on his face. The stark contrast from his regular demeanor snaps Sapnap to attention. “We gotta band together, boys.”

Sapnap nods, thankful that Quackity believes him. Suddenly determined, he says, “yeah, we gotta stick together, boys. It’s us three versus the world—” He stops, remembering his third fiancé. “—and Karl.”

Quackity gives him a reassuring nod, but George still doesn’t say anything. He finally moves, but it’s to turn away and busy himself with removing Sapnap’s weapons from the counter. He props them up against the cabinets instead and just lingers there, avoiding Sapnap’s gaze.

Sapnap tries not to blow up at him, instead clenching his fist in resistance.

“Hey, how about we talk more about this later?” Quackity suggests, stepping forward and wrapping a comforting hand around Sapnap’s tight fist. He shoots him a comforting smile. “Night is falling and George and I have a really cool idea we’ve got to get started on.” He turns to George. “Did you wanna grab those item frames for me, George? They’re upstairs in the chest by my bed.”

The brunet hums, nonplussed, but still goes on to head upstairs.

As soon as they hear his footsteps reach the top floor, Quackity starts talking in a hushed tone. “You can still join if you want to—“

“I don’t.”

“It would be good to take your mind off of this—“

“I don’t want to take my mind off this. I want to talk about it now.”

“But George—“

“I don’t care about George,” Sapnap spits out, shaking his himself from Quackity. “He’s being all apathetic, just as usual. He doesn’t give a shit about this, he’s just gonna go run off to Dream and go about his day because he doesn’t feel like this applies to him at all, but it does. It applies to me. I’m hurt, doesn’t he realize that? Doesn’t he realize it’s all because it’s Dream’s fault?” He’s ranting and avoiding Quackity’s sympathetic gaze in the process. He doesn’t want his pity.

“Sapnap, it obviously hasn’t sunk in yet. You know how the two of them are. You can’t just expect George to turn around immediately just because you said so.”

“He should.”

“Sapnap—“

“He’s being heartless, Quackity, just as usual. He never cares—“

“He does—“

“Well, he should at least show it,” Sapnap spits, glaring at Quackity over his shoulder. His fiancé is still looking at him with that sympathetic expression, silent as he thinks over the situation.

“Sapnap, you know he cares about you and knows that you’re telling the truth. Listen, you’ve had a whole day to process this. You can’t just expect George to turn around in one second.”

…god damn it. He’s actually right. Sapnap hates that.

“…whatever,” he eventually says.

That’s the end of that conversation.

“Still don’t wanna join us?” Quackity’s voice is gentle as he asks, stepping forward to once again take Sapnap’s hand.

Sapnap relaxes, but still answers, “No, I think I’m just gonna stay here and wait for y’all to come back. You’ll message me if you need me, right?”

Quackity smiles and squeezes his hand. “‘Course.”

They leave as soon as George returns with the many stacks of item frames, the brunet giving short-ended responses and avoiding Sapnap’s eyes whenever he can.

The quick glance he sends the raven haired man as he’s exiting the front door, however, lets Sapnap know that he isn’t mad. Just afraid to consider what Sapnap’s implying. It’s reassuring, in a way. George is giving himself a chance to believe Sapnap. Maybe they can talk about it before bed. That would be nice.

So Sapnap resumes his pondering, this time at least being productive as he washes Quackity’s dishes, which have piled up in the sink due to neglect. Night has fallen at this point, and the house is silent with only one occupant in it.

Sapnap really wishes he had someone else to keep him company.

Just as he was starting to mope in his loneliness, however, he receives a message. Raising his eyebrows, he grabs at his communicator.

It’s Quackity.

_“You need to get over here.”_

* * *

Sapnap immediately pearls over to the coords that Quackity provided him, noting with a passing thought that they’re exactly outside the Embassy—Tommy’s house. As the pearl lands just outside it on the grass, his eyes immediately land on the crowd that’s formed.

His heart sinks.

Dream’s here.

Sapnap approaches cautiously, noticing Dream and George staring at each other as Quackity and Bad watch from a few feet away. Quackity appears on edge, eyes wide and mouth parted in shock, while Bad watches on in almost interest.

At the center of it all, George appears impassive, as usual. But upon getting closer, Sapnap hears his discomforted words, and his stomach flip flops. George is never this perturbed. And what is it he’s actually saying? There’s no way—

“Hm,” George says. “So Dream doesn’t want me to be king anymore.”

The blood drains from Sapnap’s face.

What? There’s no way Dream would—

“That’s your blessing, right?” Dream’s cheerful tone sounds almost mocking in comparison to George’s sullen tone. “That’s your blessing saying that you’re fine with it and that it’s great, right?”

George is characteristically silent, but then he turns to where Sapnap is frozen mid-step. “Sapnap,” he calls. “Are you hearing this?”

Oh, he’s mad.

“Wait what, Sapnap’s here?” Dream, surprised, glances back to confirm Sapnap’s arrival. “Wha—this was meant to be a quick thing.”

Sapnap bristles at that. Dream ain’t controlling this conversation, not on his watch. This is a good time as any to question Dream, he supposes. “No no no no,” he immediately interrupts him, walking forward to join their circle. “I don’t care what it was meant to be—I have to ask you something.”

“Then we can have the conversation another time, I just thought it was a good time to ask,” Dream, starting to get annoyed, instantly brushes off Sapnap’s concern. Of course he does—he doesn’t care about whatever problem Sapnap is having. In addition to this, the masked man looks over at George to gauge his reaction, but the brunet is unresponsive.

Sapnap shoots a glare at Dream before turning to George, “George, do you remember what I told you earlier? About what Dream said to Tommy?”

“Sapnap!” The aforementioned man protests, smacking his forearm onto Sapnap’s chest plate in an attempt to stop him. Sapnap looks to him with a glare. “You weren’t even involved in this, I was just talking—“

“No no, it doesn’t matter if I was _involved_ in it,” he quickly brushes him off and turns back to George. “George, remember: Dream said he didn’t care about anything on this SMP, which means he doesn’t care about us—“

Dream stiffens and immediately starts to object, stuttering over his words in an attempt to explain himself, “W-Well obviously I was—“ he stops to take a deep breath, composing himself before continuing. He’s clearly caught off guard by this sudden topic of conversation. Sapnap doesn’t know whether to be offended by his lack of consideration or triumphant that he managed to catch Dream off guard. “—okay. I didn’t _actually_ mean I didn’t care about anything.”

Sapnap doesn’t even give Dream’s words the time of day. He’s already made up his mind. Nothing that Dream says can change that now. He instead glances at George, prompting him to speak up.

The brunet has taken a slight step back, scrutinizing Dream. There’s a lull in the argument as George gives him a once-over. “Why did you say it, then?” He snarks.

Sapnap can’t help the grateful grin that tugs at his lips as pride wells up in his chest. George believes him. For once, he’s not immediately siding with Dream.

Dream seems to have noticed this, too, his shoulders tensing in dismay. “Well, listen, the only reason I’m even saying that George should step down as king is because I care about him!” He says to no one in particular.

“You’re saying George should step down as king?” Sapnap repeats, eyebrows raised.

“Well yeah, because he’s been getting attacked and I care about him and I don’t want him to get attacked,” Dream reasons.

Anger flares in Sapnap’s chest. “Attacks? What attacks? Who’s attacking George?”

“Well, Tommy, of course. But today, Techno came after him again. Again! This isn’t even the first time!” He rants, gesturing at George jerkily. Despite his frustration, he seems to have relaxed slightly, comforted by the fact that he could explain his thought process.

Dream seems to believe that he’s fully in the right here. Like his explanation excuses the rant he gave Tommy yesterday.

It doesn’t. Not to Sapnap.

“Hello, gentlemen.”

A deep voice cuts through the tension in the air, and the three of them wheel around to face the newcomer. Sapnap feels that growing bud of anger in his chest immediately bloom to life.

There stands Eret. Uncrowned, unkinged Eret.

Dream must have messaged him to get here. And all of them certainly know why.

Sapnap ignores Eret, violently snapping his head away to look back at George. He’s expressionless. Just watching.

Stepping forward, Sapnap grabs his friend’s shoulders and forces the brunet to look him in the eye. “George,” he mutters solemnly, trying to get some sort of reaction out of him. He needs him to understand. “He wants you to step down as king. George, you don’t have to do anything he says.”

“Okay—“ A hand roughly shoves at Sapnap’s shoulder, trying to pull the two of them apart, but Sapnap doesn’t budge. This irritates Dream, who scoffs in disgust, “Sapnap, first of all, he _does_ —“ Sapnap’s eyes narrow in anger. The raven haired man does not pull his eyes away from the brunet’s. They’re staring at each other, letting Dream rant. “Second of all, obviously George understands and he is better—“

“Do you understand?” Sapnap actually asks George. The brunet bites his lip.

“Sapnap! Stop!” Dream shoves him, Sapnap stumbling as he’s separated from George. He catches his footing, but he’s glaring at Dream as the masked man angrily turns on him. “Why are you trying to divide us?”

Oh, that’s rich. Sapnap almost laughs at the sheer irony of it.

“ _Me_?” He spits. “ _Me_ divide us?”

Dream’s lips part in shock. “Yes!”

God, does this man really not understand what’s so wrong with what he’s saying?

“Er, what’s going on?”

“Eret!” Dream steps away from Sapnap’s gaze in order to talk to Eret properly. Sapnap and George follow him with their eyes as he opens his arms to the former king in welcome. “Okay, listen, we had our disagreements, but I would like you to be king again.”

“What?” Eret exclaims, echoed by Quackity, who has been standing on the sidelines this whole time.

“Oh my god,” George groans. Sapnap’s heart sinks at the disappointment in his voice.

“I know that sounds ridiculous, but I’ll tell you why—“

George steps towards Dream, shouting to get his attention. “I’m literally still king! I’m literally right here!” Dream attempts to talk over him, but George isn’t having any of that. “I’m right here!” He cries out.

“George.” Dream snaps his head around, shoulders set in an authoritative manner. His voice is dangerously low as he gives him a stern warning, “shush.”

And George shuts up. Just like that. Because how could he ever say no to Dream?

Sapnap, seething at the injustice of his friend, rips out his crossbow. He loads a bolt, hands shaking with fury, and points it directly at Dream’s head.

It won’t kill him—he’s a god. But it’ll certainly send a message.

But it’s not his place to shoot—it’s George’s. Because when it comes down to it, George is the one being disrespected here, not Sapnap. George would never be the one to raise a finger against Dream, though. Not genuinely.

But he has to. He must. He’s being disrespected here, shouldn’t that make him mad enough to hurt Dream?

“George, you give me the word,” he states. George doesn’t respond.

Sapnap prays that he does.

“Eret,” Dream begins, “you showed that you were loyal and caring and a good friend and a good ruler, and I thought that was very good. You were very well-behaved—the reason I was mad was because you didn’t listen to me, but the reason you were king wasn’t because you listened to me. The reason you were king was because you did what was right for this land. That’s why you betrayed L’Manberg in the first place, because you thought it was right for this land and for yourself.

“So I want to appoint you back as king. George took your place temporarily, he did a good job, but he’s also been getting attacked n’ stuff, and I don’t think you’ll get attacked. Cause people know you’re not right behind me like George is,” Dream explains.

A smile has sprouted on Eret’s face, and, in the span of Dream talking, Captain Puffy and Punz have joined Bad and Quackity on the sidelines. Sapnap has no idea how or why they’re here, but he doesn’t care. He stays rooted by George’s side.

Eret, meanwhile, seems awfully pleased with being crowned king again. He nods along to Dream’s reasoning, “yeah, very much like a neutral party.”

Dream nods too, “which is exactly the point of being king! Being neutral!”

“Yeah!” Eret cheers, “awesome!”

Sapnap’s gonna hurl. He speaks up, “the king didn’t step down!”

Dream ignores Sapnap. “George,” he says instead, turning around and walking up to the brunet. “Give him your blessing.”

George says nothing, much to Dream’s annoyance.

“I mean, you understand, right? Like, you did nothing as king.”

“I’ve been the best king this land has ever had,” George retorts, noticeably offended.

Dream holds his hands up in a sorta surrender. “I agree, I agree! But you’ve also been the least safe king because people attack you all the time because people don’t like you.”

Suddenly aware of what he said, Dream falters, backpedaling his words in an attempt to clarify that he hadn’t meant it like that. But everyone around them already heard it, gasping. Bad automatically coos, naturally pitying George, but Eret laughs, surprised but not opposed.

George heard it especially. He immediately stiffened, shuffling closer to Sapnap subconsciously. Nobody notices his flinch, but Sapnap feels rejuvenated at the feeling of George’s arm pressed against his own. He needs to protect his best friend. Even if it is to protect him against their other best friend.

Well, someone who used to be their best friend.

“I worded that wrong, I worded that wrong!” Dream rambles, almost sounding like he actually cares. “People don’t like me and therefore don’t like you, because you’re behind me and you’re my friend.”

“By association,” Eret supplies.

“Yeah, by association.” He nods at Eret before suddenly gesturing to Sapnap, “that’s the same reason why Sapnap’s gotten involved in drama a lot, too.”

The masked man seems content with his explanation, but the other two remain silent. Uneasy, he finally notices Sapnap’s crossbow and smacks it up and out of his face. “Sapnap! Stop pointing the damn bow at me!”

Sapnap scowls but says nothing as he repositions it at Dream’s head. In response, Dream snarls, teeth bared in an act of aggression and, without warning, rips out his axe to ram the eye into Sapnap’s chest. Sapnap staggers back from the force of it, the others crying aloud in surprise, but doesn’t drop the crossbow from Dream’s head. He just keeps glaring at that smiling mask through the sight, finger tightening on the trigger.

Anytime, George. Just give him the god damn word.

Instead, George steps forward, words sharp and eyes staring straight through the eyeholes of Dream’s mask. “Just say it, Dream. Just say you hate me.”

“George—!” Dream cries out, distressed by his words, as if he can’t believe that he would say such a thing. “I care—“

“First he says he doesn’t care about us and now he’s demoting you as king!” Sapnap interrupts, backing George up.

Dream wheels around to glare at Sapnap. “Listen, I’m not demoting him! He wasn’t king before and he didn’t—“

“He’s king now! He’s king now!”

“No, he’s not. Eret’s king now,” Dream insists, face darkening.

“George.” They all turn to Punz, who has stepped into the circle with that usual glare on his face. With a trident in one hand and an axe in the other, he states, “I think this is for the best.”

Punz too? Sapnap scowls at the blond.

“It _is_ for the best!” Dream agrees, stepping closer to Punz, clearly happy to have him backing him up. “It keeps George the safest! George gets to be safe—“ he stops, once again distracted by Sapnap’s crossbow. His upbeat facade is dropped as he rounds on him. “Sapnap, stop this. You’re, like, purposefully trying to divide us—“

“I’m not dividing anyone!” Sapnap argues, “I stand by George.”

“Look, I know—“

“He’s my king but, most importantly, he’s my friend,” he insists.

Dream snarls, smacking at his crossbow again. “Yeah, he’s my friend, too, but he’s not my king. Eret’s my king. As a part of our team, that’s something you need to recognize. The king needs to be neutral, but George is soundly on our side.”

Sapnap scoffs. ‘Our’ side, huh?

Sapnap turns to George, who is now staring at the ground with a mixture of shock and misery, and feels a twinge of pity. He clearly doesn’t want this. “Well, whatever George decides, I’ll stick with him. So if he wants to step down—“

“He’s not stepping down, I gave it to him in the first place!” Dream argues. “How do you think he got it in the first place?”

“So you’re like the god of this land?” Sapnap tempts, snapping his head up to glare at him.

Dream shoulders tense.

It’s a low blow, accusing him of such, but Sapnap has to know.

When Dream and George founded this land in the beginning, they established it as a land of community. They insisted that no god would be the sole ruler of the land, even when Sapnap came in and tried to establish the prosperous land as his own. No, they were adamant about living in harmony. That’s the whole reason they built the community house together.

So if what Dream’s implying is true, then Sapnap really doesn’t see what else there is for him to redeem about himself.

“No, I’m not,” Dream insists.

“Yeah, Dream is the god of this land,” Eret contradicts, much to Dream’s chagrin. “Kings get assigned by a higher power and Dream is that higher power.”

Well, that basically confirms it. Dream has gone against his god damn word and established himself as the ruler. Whoop-de-fucking-doo.

The masked man shakes his head, though, trying to change the subject. “The king is a figurehead for keeping the peace, and that’s something that Eret should be good at. The only reason for all this is because George has been getting attacked and he’s only gonna keep on getting attacked. Eventually, George is gonna lose all of his power just because he was king and that’s just dumb.”

Dream waits for someone to disagree with him this time, ready to defend his stance. But no one says anything.

Sapnap glimpses at George out of the corner of his eye, noting his hunched over form and continued dejection. Unfortunately, in all of this, Dream has a point. People _have_ been targeting George recently, so much so that sometimes Dream and Sapnap haven’t even been around to save him.

But after Dream’s speech to Tommy and his aggression against them tonight, Sapnap can’t help but stand against Dream. The masked man doesn’t care as much as he’s insisting he does.

Besides, for a conversation that ultimately relies on George’s feelings, Dream has done a whole lot speaking for him.

Without the lack of opposition, the god relaxes. “Alright, that’s done for. That’s all. We can move on.” But Captain Puffy has placed a gentle hand on George’s netherite shoulder guard, cooing at his misery, and Dream feels the immediate need to say, “no, ignore him. George isn’t even sad. He’s just acting sad.”

And yet, “George is sad!” she declares.

“He’s not sad!”

But already, everyone around them have already started murmuring a collection of “aww’s” and trying to comfort him, huddling around his hunched over form to rub or pat at his armor. Outside the group, Eret watches on with an amused smirk on his face, and Dream fumes. “He’s not sad! He’s just acting sad!” He insists.

Still, George weakly shoves past them, head hanging low as he steps onto the prime path and starts shuffling in the direction of the community house. Sapnap follows close behind him without missing a beat, ready to accompany him anywhere. For some reason, everyone starts to accompany them, too.

Dream, watching the crowd from afar, scoffs and hurries on over to George’s side. “Listen, George,” he huffs, but calms down enough to suggest, “I know something that will make you feel better.” He glances over his shoulder. “Eret, give him a position.”

“Uh—“

“A knight!” Dream instantly proclaims, to which Eret gives a delayed acquiescence. He’s got a smile on his face as he bumps into George’s shoulder light-heartedly. “And you can be head knight! How does that sound?”

Sapnap does not like this sudden change in attitude.

He whips his crossbow around to point back at Dream’s mask, to which the man seems to give a quick glare in acknowledgement, but ultimately doesn’t turn his attention away from George.

“Downgraded from one minute to another,” Quackity complains from somewhere behind them. God, Sapnap forgot he was there. His fiancé steps into view beside Dream, a concerned expression on his face as he looks at George. “Jesus. George…?”

“Well, anyway, it’s already been decided,” Dream says as an ultimatum, brushing off Quackity’s concern. “This is just him doing theatrics.”

“No, he looks sad, Dream,” Captain Puffy remarks again, strolling beside Sapnap.

“Yeah, he _looks_ sad. He’s trying to look sad on purpose,” Dream replies, shoving George in the process.

The brunet accepts the rough treatment wordlessly, but Sapnap retaliates, “and now you’re hitting him.”

“Stop pointing the gun at me, Sapnap!” Dream exclaims, rounding on him for the millionth time that night. He violently jabs at him with the eye of his netherite axe again, shoving him off of the prime path, but Sapnap doesn’t let up. With his crossbow still pointing at Dream, he steps back up beside George.

The masked man scowls, but turns away to listen to Punz as the blond welcomes Eret back to his throne. They go on to comment about the throne itself, and Quackity makes a nervous joke about George being Eret’s queen, but all Sapnap can focus on is George’s silence and complacency.

He’s clearly upset with this proposal, so why doesn’t he just tell Dream no? He has every right to, he has Sapnap to back up—why doesn’t he just say no?

Sapnap watches him with furrowed eyebrows.

Could it be that George is afraid of Dream…?

Sapnap snaps out of his contemplation just as Dream steps right in front of them. “George!” The masked man grits out in annoyance, repeatedly knocking the eye of his axe into George’s gut in some kind of attempt to get George to stop moping.

Of course, it doesn’t work. George stumbles back, tripping over his feet and landing on his back, but still saying nothing. The others gasp around them.

Sapnap growls, aims a kick at Dream’s gut to send him staggering back and give them space, then drops his hand from the foregrip of his crossbow in order to offer a hand to George. But the brunet does nothing, his eyes remaining downcast as he stares at nothing in particular. So Sapnap forces him to stand, instead, grasping at his bicep and lifting the petite man to his feet himself.

They resume their shuffling.

Dream continues as if nothing happened, and they go on to praise Eret some more, Dream’s smile forced as he keeps shooting irked glances at George. With each glance, Sapnap tightens his grip on his bow. At one point, Bad hovers by them, a sympathetic expression on his face as he reaches out to rub comfortingly at George’s shoulder, but George shrugs him off.

Meanwhile, Quackity trails behind them, clearly hesitant and confused. Sapnap can hear his murmurs, his fiancé making various disapproving comments along the lines of “this is fucked up” and “fired under the pretense of ‘hey, we’re friends’? Dang.”

It’s reassuring to know that someone else feels the same way as him.

Sapnap snaps to attention when he notices Dream approaching them again, and he makes an obvious show of the crossbow in his hand. The masked man looks away from George, scowls, and, for the umpteenth time that night, jabs the eye of his axe into Sapnap’s chest plate. This time, however, Sapnap actually thinks he’s bruised his ribs. “Stop pointing a gun at me, Sapnap!” Dream demands, “I _will_ fight you!”

Before Sapnap can reply, though, George starts to whine. He raises his eyebrows in shock, but Dream only groans. Losing his composure, he finally snaps at the former king, “George, listen! You’re just proving you shouldn’t be king! You’re being a baby!”

At that, George cries out, roughly elbows Dream away from him—the masked man tripping over his feet at the surprise attack—and takes off in a flurry, leaving the rest of them reeling at the sudden retaliation.

Quackity is calling to George in an instant, quickly hurrying after him, but Sapnap takes a moment to aim another kick at Dream, just to get his message across. The masked man lets out an “oof” in response as Sapnap spits, “just leave him alone, Dream! You’ve done enough!” He follows after the two of them, right past Punz’s house.

“Fine, fine, fine! I’ll leave him alone!” Dream hollers from behind, clearly irked.

“It is what it is,” Eret unhelpfully remarks.

Sapnap tries to restrain himself from turning around and kicking him, too.

“I’m going to my throne!” George announces.

“There is no throne!” Eret retorts, sounding awfully close. Sapnap glances over his shoulder to see the whole group still following them. Why can’t they just leave them alone?

“George—“ Sapnap’s getting real sick of listening to Dream speak. “—your throne has been gone for three weeks and you haven’t even noticed. That’s how bad of a king you were!”

Everyone around them gasps at Dream’s comment and Eret shouts after George, “I thought you cared!”, but Sapnap can only scoff. Oh, so _now_ Dream has a problem with George’s rule? _Now_ that the others have acknowledged him as the bad guy?

“I thought you said George was a great king!” Sapnap shouts over his shoulder in a challenge.

“Well—“

“Yeah, you’re _totally_ dethroning George because you _care_ about him!” Sapnap remarks, sarcastically.

Dream sputters, “Sapnap—!” But doesn’t say anything else. Of course he doesn’t. Sapnap rolls his eyes, picking up his pace.

What an idiot. What a stupid ass idiot. Trying to appear like the good guy in this situation.

They reach the community house before long, George and Quackity already disappearing inside as they pass through it on their way to Eret’s castle.

The castle is already on the horizon, showcasing the fact that it’s still got a statue of Eret at the front, and the windows are still stained with rainbow hues. Sapnap tries to ignore them, but the clear signs of Eret’s rule make it seem like George wasn’t meant to be king in the first place.

But Sapnap’ll ignore them for as long as George does, because he _does_ deserve to be king. Dream has no right to command a god to step down, even if they are friends.

He hurries up the front steps two at a time, just barely catching sight of George and Quackity as they disappear into the castle and immediately head for the throne room. When he arrives to the throne room soon after, gasping for breath, he can only grimace at the severe lack of a throne—it’s just as Eret said. George really _hadn’t_ noticed.

George is standing where it once stood, staring down at the floor in sorrow. Propped against the wall instead is a rather regal portrait of Eret, who stands poised with his crown, cape, and a confident smirk on his face.

Quackity, who’s watching from afar, doesn’t acknowledge Sapnap’s entrance. He’s too focused on George.

“Aha, see! There _is_ no throne!” Eret announces from behind him. Sapnap hears the group of them walk up, confirming their presences by watching as Dream, Eret, Punz, Captain Puffy, and Bad all step into his line of sight and go to stand around George. They chuckle at his surprise, as if mocking him.

But before anyone can even blink, the portrait of Eret is slashed, and George just watches the seams rip apart in sick satisfaction, knife in hand. He’s ripped the portrait down the middle, tarnishing Eret’s painted face in retaliation.

Eret gasps, “no!”

“He ruined your face!” Captain Puffy cries out.

“George!” Dream warns, stepping forward to tug at George’s arm. Sapnap whips his crossbow out again. “Listen, we can build you a new throne. We can build you a new castle or something, okay?”

But George doesn’t listen, instead turning away and murmuring, “oh my god.”

Dream continues to try to appease him, but George rips free from his grip and quickly slips off into a side room, disappearing behind the corner. Sapnap immediately starts to go after him, but hesitates at the sight of him removing his goggles and rubbing at his eyes.

He never removes his goggles in public.

Sapnap, steeling himself, continues for the room in order to provide some consolation, but, out of all people, Bad stops him. The 9’6” demon crouches in front of Sapnap, expression calm, but shaking his head all the same. “Give him a moment,” he whispers. Sapnap furrows his eyebrows, but, understanding that Bad has George’s best interests in mind, steps back.

There’s a beat of silence before: “Well, congratulations, Eret!” Dream breaks the tension to comment, delightedly. Sapnap turns back to the crowd with a glare.

“Thank you! I’m glad to be back!” Eret responds, equally as cheerful.

“I thought George would take it well, but he’s just being a baby for no reason,” Dream complains, shrugging. He glances over at the side room where George disappeared, probably wondering if he’d get a reaction for that. Sapnap follows his gaze and is glad to confirm that Dream doesn’t.

“How does it feel Eret?” Captain Puffy inquires with a smile.

“It feels great to be back.”

They all share a round of laughs. They’re smiling at each other, pleased to see Eret back as king.

It’s sickening. Do they not care about George at all?

Sapnap aims one last glare at Dream, who’s way too engrossed in chatting with Eret, and turns to Quackity.

Or at least, tries to turn to Quackity.

His fiancé is no longer in the room. With a quick scan, Sapnap manages to spot him just outside the throne room, mouth parted slightly and body frozen in shock. He’s staring off into space as Sapnap approaches, eventually meeting his eyes in a sort of daze.

“That just happened,” Sapnap whispers. “I can’t believe that just happened.”

“What the fuck,” Quackity breathes, agreeing.

“How could he do that—“

“Hold on,” he cuts him off, and Sapnap promptly shuts up. Having suddenly snapped out of his trance, Quackity reaches forward to take his hand in a rock hard grip. “Let’s get out of here.”

“We need to get George,” Sapnap says, nodding. “Wait here, I’m gonna go grab him.” Quackity nods, gives him one last squeeze, and lets him slip back into the throne room.

Sapnap heads straight for the side room, paying no attention to the others as he goes to fetch his friend. Bad, who’s standing by the door, doesn’t try and stop him this time.

He steps into the doorway but avoids looking in for fear of intruding on George’s privacy. “George, it’s me.”

There’s a sniffle. “Sapnap?”

Sapnap tenses, his heart sinking at the sound of George’s croaky voice. “Yeah, George. Come on, we’re going to Mexican L’Manberg.”

“…okay,” George mumbles.

There’s some rustling sounds and sounds of netherite armor clinking, but soon enough, George steps into Sapnap’s line of sight, goggles placed back over his eyes. It tugs at Sapnap’s heart strings for some reason, but he doesn’t comment on it. “Let’s go. Come on, George,” he says instead.

As they return to the throne room, Sapnap tries his best to keep his eyes trained on Quackity, who’s waiting outside in silence. But beside him, George hesitates, and he has to tear his eyes away from his fiancé in order to keep George in pace.

“Come on, George,” he murmurs, distractedly. Upon looking over, though, he realizes that George has slowed down for the sole purpose of gazing forlornly at Dream. Sapnap bristles and tugs at George’s forearm, “no, don’t even look at him, let’s go.”

George lets himself be dragged away, eventually turning his gaze away from Dream, who had been staring back without a word.

“Let’s go to Mexican L’Manberg,” Quackity says immediately when they meet back up with him.

George takes a deep breath, staring at the ground at his nods. “Mexican L’Manberg is all we need.”

* * *

So that’s where they find themselves 15 minutes later: all three of them huddled around a wooden table in a small cottage at the top of the hill, the place that currently serves as the capital of Mexican L’Manberg.

The air is tense and no one is talking, still trying to process what just happened. It certainly came out of nowhere, and Sapnap hates that it had confirmed his worst fears about Dream. At least now George and Quackity are soundly on his side, he supposes.

Speaking of which, George is currently at Sapnap’s right, arms wrapped around his knees and chin propped on top of them as he stares out the window in deep thought. His crown is gone, and his goggles, despite them being inside, remain on his face and hide his eyes from the rest of the cruel world. He shudders suddenly, and tightens his hold around his legs.

Quackity has just sat down to Sapnap’s left, having prepared them all some coffee, and immediately goes to intertwine their hands underneath the table. Sapnap accepts his hand and the coffee wordlessly.

Casting a hesitant glance towards George, Quackity turns to Sapnap with a worrisome expression on his face. He grimaces in response. With a sigh, Quackity leans forward to break the silence and get George’s attention, “George, you okay?”

The brunet says nothing. Naturally.

“George, what happened to you was fucked up,” he continues.

Still nothing.

“Did you know that was gonna happen?”

There’s a couple seconds of silence, but then—“no,” George murmurs.

He sounds so dejected. It’s so unusual.

Sapnap doesn’t like it.

“He—He just came up to us and did that out of nowhere,” Quackity comments. “What gives him the right to just come in and do that?”

George sighs. “…he hates me.”

Sadness wells up in Sapnap’s chest. George doesn’t deserve this. Not at all.

“We’re gonna prove them all wrong,” he proclaims, turning to Quackity with a determined nod. “We’re gonna become the most powerful nation. George is gonna be king again.”

“Oh yeah,” Quackity replies, confidence shining in his eyes. “Yeah he is.”

But George sorta flinches at that, instead stating, “we’ll, uh, we’ll build up Mexican L’Manberg. Just the three of us. We’ll all be, like, kings.”

Sapnap, oblivious to George’s inner turmoil, nods along. “We don’t need anyone else.”

“Listen, this all just proves that you guys have been left in the dust for way too long, like, ever since Dream has been making these decisions without you guys. I mean, cause, the three of you were the first ones to establish this land, right?” Quackity asks.

Sapnap grimaces at the reminder. “Yeah, we were the original gang.”

“And he just left you guys.”

“Yeah…”

Sapnap gets lost in his thoughts, suddenly remembering the first time he’d stepped foot on this land. Dream and George had already started work on the community house when he had joined them, his first memory being Callahan drowning and George stabbing him in retaliation. He’d been kinda irked at the time, but considering what worse things they’d done to each other since then, it means nothing now.

He wishes things were still like that.

George suddenly sighs, dejectedly, and Quackity immediately turns to him in pity. “George—“

“It’s fine, it’s fine,” he says, quickly brushing off Quackity’s concern.

“No, no, George—“

A knock at the front door interrupts Quackity, and the three of them fall dead silent, wheeling around to face the entrance. Who the fuck would be visiting them at this time of night?

Quackity shoots Sapnap an apprehensive look before quietly getting out of his chair and padding to the window. Peeking out, his eyes suddenly widen and he turns back to them, his face starting to shift. It’s as his face is starting to take on a pitch black hue that Sapnap realizes he’s shapeshifting into the person outside the door to avoid making a sound.

Within a second, there’s a pop, and in front of them stands Quackity’s body with the hooded head of Bad. Without hesitation, Sapnap frantically gestures to let him in. Bad’s head nods at him, contorts, and with another pop, Quackity resumes his regular appearance. He swings the door open.

Sure enough, there stands Bad, the 9’6” tall, pitch black demon himself, eyebrows raising when Quackity immediately greets him with “Bad! Bad!”

“What?”

“Come in come in, what’s your take on this?” He says, ushering the demon in. Bad accepts the manhandling and ducks inside, raising a casual hand in acknowledgement towards Sapnap and George. Sapnap returns the favor, but George is unresponsive.

“Uhh—“

“You’re from the Badlands, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Who do you affiliate with in this situation?” Quackity is trying to get an opinion out of Bad, all the while gesturing for him to sit down and make himself comfortable. The demon acquiesces, hesitantly taking a seat opposite of Sapnap while Quackity goes off to pour another cup of coffee.

“Well, uh, we’re a neutral third party,” Bad tries to explain, albeit awkwardly. “We’re just keeping an eye on the situation.”

“Okay, but we just witnessed an injustice,” Quackity points out from the kitchen.

Bad casts a wary, maybe even slightly peeved, glance at George as he replies, “I don’t know, George had his opportunity to grant us autonomy and he wouldn’t.” George, perking up at his name, shoots Bad a glare.

“Did you even ask?” Quackity asks, disbelieving.

“Yeah—“

“Yeah, you did,” George interrupts, going on the defensive. “You asked me, and you know who told me not to?”

Bad quirks an eyebrow, “who?”

“You don’t remember?”

Sapnap sure doesn’t.

Realization dawns on Bad’s face. “Are you talking about Dream?”

George nods, solemnly muttering, “I’m talking about Dream.”

Sapnap furrows his eyebrows and averts his gaze to his coffee cup.

“Yeah, well, you could’ve tried to overrule him, but you didn’t—“ of course he didn’t “—and, I don’t know. That’s just kinda discouraging.”

George doesn’t reply, and Quackity comes back just in time to save them all from the awkward silence.

“So, what do you want, Bad?” He asks, setting a coffee cup down in front of him before sitting back down beside Sapnap.

Bad lets out a little “ooo!” and takes a sip. Then, letting out a little giggle, he leans forward with the tips of his clawed fingers pressed together. “We demand violence.”

Quackity’s eyes pop out of their sockets, and Sapnap’s eyebrows have raised up well past his hairline. “What?” His fiancé stutters.

“Yes,” Bad states simply.

“We can give you some violence,” George mutters darkly under his breath.

“Not just violence, though—violence that guarantees us victory.”

Quackity appears confused. “Wh-Wha—We just want George’s fucking throne back.”

“And I encourage this confrontation, I think it’s a great idea!” Bad cheers.

“We could use your support, Bad.” Quackity voice is low and he’s staring at Bad with a steely gaze, trying to get him to understand just how important the situation is.

“We’ll support! But we want something—“

“Violence?”

“No, we want George to officially give the Badlands the territory we want,” Bad says, crossing his arms over his chest out of stubbornness. He looks at George expectantly.

“George?” Quackity prompts.

George straightens up to consider the demon for a few seconds, then hums uncommittedly. A clear no.

“See, Quackity?!” Bad implodes, immediately riled up. This prompts George and him to start talking over each other in an argument. Sapnap even joins in in an attempt to defend George, since he hasn’t even explained his thought process, but Quackity interrupts all of them in the end.

“Okay okay okay okay, wait—Bad, how much land do you want?”

Bad calms down enough to answer Quackity, “okay, we want everything South of Eret’s castle, and everything north of me and Skeppy’s mansion.” He gestures in the corresponding directions with a casual hand.

“…that’s a lot of land,” Sapnap admits dejectedly, when Bad’s proposal finally sinks in.

“Yeah!”

George, Quackity, and himself all start talking over each other again, making disbelieving comments that Bad really wants all that land to himself. It truly is a lot of land, infinite even, as George makes sure to point out. Didn’t they establish in the very beginning that this would be a land of community? That no god would be the sole ruler of the land?

Sapnap, already tired of this conversation, sits up and awkwardly unsheathes his sword from his belt. “What’s stopping us from killing you right now?”

Quackity lays a gentle hand on his arm. “Sapnap—“

Bad glares at him, “well, you’re the ones who came hat in hand asking for assistance.”

“You’re the one who came here,” Sapnap says in contradiction, glaring right on back.

“Alright, fine, I’ll leave,” he casually replies, getting up from his chair. Good.

“No no no, Bad!” Quackity is immediately saying, latching a hand onto Bad’s inky forearm. “Wait, please. You know how much land you’re asking for, right?”

“Yes!”

Quackity sits there, trying to ponder a solution to all this. But eventually, he can only comment in disbelief, “you want _so much_ , Bad.”

“Okay, let’s compromise,” Sapnap proposes, slapping his hands down on the table. The two of them look at him in curiosity and he suggests, “you get one of those. The land past the castle or the land past the mansion.”

Bad hums, a fist raised to his lips in thought. “Let me think about this for a second.”

“It’s still a _lot_ of land.”

“Um… No. I want all of it!” Bad declares, angrily ripping his arm out of Quackity’s grip and stamping his foot.

Quackity groans at his strong will, but Sapnap is quick to argue, “Bad, you know Eret’s not gonna give you all that land, right?”

“He might—“

“He will give you none of it, and here we are offering fifty percent of it.”

Quackity’s eyes sparkle when he realizes what Sapnap’s getting at, and he jumps in to contribute, “Eret was king before, what did he give you guys then?”

Bad actually pauses at this, humming again as he thinks about Quackity’s question. Meanwhile, George pipes up helpfully to say, “nothing.”

Reluctantly, Bad nods, “nothing, that’s a good point.”

Finally, he’s starting to understand. Sapnap relaxes in the slightest.

“And what do you have right now?” Quackity continues.

This seems to annoy Bad. His eyebrows pinch as he immediately starts to defend himself, but he can barely be heard over George’s loud reminders that they have nothing. Bad, in aggravation, shouts “no!” and violently kicks the other’s chair out from underneath him.

George topples forward, just barely catching himself on the edge of the table. Sapnap doesn’t even wait to see if he’s okay before he’s on his feet, crossbow in hand as he shoots a bolt at Bad in retaliation. “Do not hit George!” He bellows.

It didn’t really do much. The demon yanks the bolt out of his armor dismissively and turns back to Quackity. “Listen, we just want the Badlands and our territory to be officially recognized by the crown.”

“The land’s not even yours yet! You can’t just claim all that as your own!” George argues as he gets to his feet, actually provoked.

“We’re going to!”

“How? How are you gonna do it?” Quackity pipes up.

“We’ll negotiate with the higher power, whoever that is on this land—“

“That’s Dream,” Quackity replies, to which Sapnap grumbles. “You’re going against Dream, one of the most powerful beings in this land. But who does he have at the moment? He just lost George and Sapnap.

“Now, George, Sapnap, and I can’t take him on alone, but neither can the Badlands!” Quackity pauses, allowing for the information to sink in. Bad hums, acknowledging his train of thought.

Quackity continues, “so, what if we just all come together? You help us get George’s throne back and we give you fifty percent of the land. If you try to get a hundred percent of the land from Dream alone, you’ll die. So team up with us, Bad, _please_.”

The three of them watch Bad in apprehension, waiting for his answer. He’s once again got his fist to his lips, looking at the ground in deep thought. Eventually, he admits, “Quackity, you make a very compelling argument, but I don’t speak for the entirety of the Badlands. I’ll take your offer and talk it over with my cohorts.”

Quackity visibly relaxes at that, nodding in acknowledgement. “Talk it through, talk it through—“

“But let me ask you this, Quackity: do you think George is a better king than Eret?”

“Yes,” Sapnap replies without hesitation.

“Even if he wasn’t,” his fiancé says, avoiding the question, “what kind of power do we have when a king can just be dethroned by Dream like that in a second? That’s no order—that’s just someone pulling the strings by themselves.”

Sapnap and George both nod. Damn, Quackity’s really describing Sapnap’s thoughts—thoughts that he’s been struggling to recognize and come to terms with for days—with little effort. He stops himself from reaching over and planting a kiss on Quackity’s head in pride.

“It doesn’t matter whether George was a good king or not, what matters here is what Dream did and how he’s pulling all the strings by himself. That’s injustice! Do you want the entire land to be handled by one guy?”

“The same guy who preached harmony at the very beginning of all this?” Sapnap adds, looking straight at Bad’s pure white eyes. “Bad, remember in the beginning when he got all mad at me for trying to establish my rule over this place? But now that he’s doing the same, it’s suddenly not a problem?”

Bad hums, but doesn’t respond. He doesn’t want to reveal his opinions yet—he’s a demon after all. He’s strategic.

Quackity sighs, “listen at the end of the day, we just want peace—“

But before Quackity can even continue, there are sounds of breaking glass coming from outside—splash potions.

Sapnap jumps to his feet, but before he can even react, the window beside him shatters, and an invisible force topples Quackity out of his chair and to the ground. “What the fuck?!” Quackity is screeching, as a netherite axe swings down on top of him. Sapnap leaps forward, shoving the invisible person off of his fiancé and pulling out his netherite sword in preparation to fight.

He ignores George’s surprised shouts behind him, ignores Bad retreating into the corner to watch, and instead focuses on his opponent, who’s reequipping their netherite armor. There’s only one person this could be.

Sapnap snarls and charges forward, holding his sword over his head for a critical hit, but his adversary slips past him, and he wheels around to see him heading back over to Quackity. But Quackity’s distracted, shouting at George, “get the fuck out of here!”

“Quackity!”

Luckily, Quackity looks over and manages to just barely evade the attack by stumbling backwards with a “shit!”

Sapnap once again charges, pulling out his shield and colliding into the netherite armor, sending it straight into the barrels lining the walls.

“Sapnap, where are you?!” He hears George shout in alarm. Sapnap spins around, shocked to find another set of floating netherite armor shoving against George. The brunet shrieks, “Punz is trying to kill me!” The others start screaming in alarm.

“Get the fuck out of here, George!”

“Run, George, run!”

“Run, George!” Sapnap yells, vaulting over the table to get between him and Punz. He holds off the attack with his shield, grunting with effort as he fights against Punz, trying to butt him out of the way. George, not waiting to be told twice, immediately spins on his heel and disappears through the shattered window. But Sapnap watches in horror as an ender pearl follows him out, glowing armor joining him in the dark.

“They’re pearling!” George’s screams can be heard from where they stand.

“George!” Sapnap bellows.

As if in response, Punz gives him one last painful shove before disappearing outside, as well. Sapnap groans, gets to his feet, and joins Bad in running after them.

It’s pitch black outside, but he can still spot three sets of netherite armor zipping past Mexican L’Manberg, George stumbling away at the head.

“Get out of here, George!” Sapnap shouts. He stamps at the ground in frustration. “They attacked us on our soil!”

George, unluckily, manages to trip on something. Struggling to get up, he shoots a frightened gaze over his shoulder, notices the approaching sets, and releases a fearful scream at the top of his lungs.

“George, hide!” Bad begs.

But it’s too late for that, as an axe has already plunged itself into George’s armor, and he lets out a pained screech, speaking way too fast, “they’ve got strength! They’ve got strength! They’ve got—“

There’s a pop, and he’s gone. Sapnap hopes that it had been because of an ender pearl. Still, the sets of netherite armor hurry off into the woods to go after him.

“Oh gosh,” Bad murmurs, worried. Sapnap tries to reassure himself that George is fine, but at this point, he doesn’t know what to do. Punz and Dream will rip him to shreds.

“I got fucking—ah!” Quackity’s voice snaps him out of his spiral, and Sapnap looks over to find him carefully stepping through the shattered window, a wince on his face as he pauses to assess his shoulder. His hand pulls away to reveal blood. Sapnap gasps and immediately goes over to help, offering a hand for him to take and carefully supporting his upper body as his fiancé steps out into the cool night. “I got fucking stabbed by Dream,” he hisses.

“Oh no, really?” Bad asks, walking up to them.

“Sapnap, are you okay?” Quackity asks, ignoring his injury and Bad’s concern.

He nods in response, “I’m okay. But you, though, holy shit—“

“Language,” Bad immediately chastises, but he too turns a concerned gaze onto Quackity’s shoulder, which has become absolutely soaked in blood. “Listen, we need to treat this immediately.”

“But George—“

“George is tough, he can handle himself,” Bad reassures. But overtop Quackity’s head, he and Sapnap share a look. George’s condition warrants him weak, and Bad, Sapnap, Dream, and Punz all know that. He’ll be fine if he escapes, but if he gets caught—

Sapnap tries not to think about it. “Let’s get him inside, quickly.”

Pulling Quackity’s uninjured arm over his shoulder, Sapnap slowly raises him to his feet, Bad hovering nearby in case he needs to help. Quackity gasps in pain, but steels himself enough to allow Sapnap to lead them in through the front door and sit him in a chair by the shattered window. The fresh air could help, but he doesn’t know for sure.

Bad, a well-trained healer, immediately begins to work at his shoulder. Helping to remove Quackity’s jacket, he calmly says to Sapnap, “go out there and stay on the look out. We want George back as soon as possible, and we sure don’t want the two of them coming back anytime soon.” Sapnap nods.

“You gonna be okay without me?” He asks his fiancé, reaching down to squeeze his hand in consolation.

Quackity grimaces, but nods all the same. “Just be careful.”

Sapnap nods in response, then turns on his heel and slips back into the night.

Walking around the edge, he looks in the general direction that the two adversaries went towards. He can’t spot them anymore, given that they’ve disappeared into the trees, but he knows they’re still there, searching. Sapnap prays for some sort of sign that George is alive and safe, though. A scream, a firework—whatever.

Just please—

A pop and a deep gasp pierce the air beside Sapnap, and he leaps into position, ready to defend against whoever has come to threaten—

It’s George.

“George!” He gasps, rushing forwarding to assist the brunet, who’s clawing at the ground on all fours. Dropping down on his knees, he lays a comforting hand on George’s shoulder plate as the man gasps and sputters, even going so far as to gag as blood spills from his lips. Sapnap freezes, dread pooling in his stomach. Oh no—

“George! George! What happened? Did they get you? Or is this because—“

“Stomach,” George chokes out, words barely decipherable. “They pierced my—“ He’s unable to finish his sentence, only able to cough up more blood.

Sapnap freaks, hands trembling as he struggles to pull George to his feet. “Okay. Okay. We need to—We need to get you inside. Bad can—Bad can help you, okay? It’s gonna be okay—“

“I don’t wanna go into another coma!” George whines, deciding that now is the best time to complain about his sleep schedule. They teeter on their feet, and Sapnap grunts in his effort to keep them upright.

“I-I know, dude, I know,” he says instead, sympathizing him. “B-But everything’s gonna be fine. You’re gonna be—You’re gonna be fine in the end.”

They manage to get moving, George coughing up over his front, but at least they’re able to take baby steps back towards the house. Sapnap briefly hopes that their pursuers have realized that they’ve made their point very clear and are retreating. God, after all these years of knowing each other—

“Bad!” Sapnap hollers, pulling up to the door.

“What? What?” Bad immediately replies, made anxious by the tone of Sapnap’s voice.

“I got him! He’s hurt!”

Bad appears at the doorway not too long after, his white eyes widening at the bloody sight of George. “Oh my goodness! Quick, let’s get him inside!” He hurries over to the other side of George, crouching to pull his arm over his shoulders and significantly decreasing the amount of effort Sapnap’s been struggling to keep up with.

They hobble inside, and Sapnap tries to avoid looking at his fiancé’s fear-stricken face, instead helping deposit George in a chair by the table. As soon as they’ve plopped him down however, more blood gushes from his lips, mingling with the tears that have been dripping from behind his goggles.

“We need a healing pot,” Bad immediately says, already starting to strip George of his armor. “Sapnap, there’s some in my ender chest. Please tell me you have an ender chest.”

“I have an ender chest, I have an ender chest,” Sapnap states. He doesn’t hesitate in placing it down, and Bad immediately dives for it, sifting through the valuables inside in order to find his healing potions.

“George…” Quackity mutters from the other side, a distressed expression on his face.

Sapnap tries to send him a reassuring smile, “it-it’s’s gonna be okay, Quackity. He’s, uh, he’s gonna be fine.” Quackity, catching his eyes, nods in acknowledgement, but resumes his panicked watch over George.

And he does end up fine. Bad has to beg him to swallow the healing potion, George gasping and sobbing as he forces himself to swallow it down with blood pooling in his mouth, but his stomach lining successfully patches itself up within minutes, and all Bad has to do is bandage his middle to allow the muscle to repair itself.

Nearly an hour later, Sapnap collapses on the ground, sitting up against the fireplace as he finally gets the chance to catch his breath. He’s been holding it since the fight.

And he’s not the only one. All four of them are all sprawled out over different sides of the room, the exhaustion from today finally settling in.

“What the fuck was that,” Quackity groans from where his face is pressed against the tabletop.

George sniffs, head tipped back to lay against the top of the chair. “That was actually messed up.”

“That was fucked up.”

“Did you see that, Bad?” Sapnap asks, looking to where Bad is laying on the ground.

Bad meets his eyes and sighs gravely, “I did see that.”

“He keeps pulling the fucking strings!” Quackity bellows, sitting up slapping his feet on the ground in irritation. The movement jostles his shoulder, and he mutters a quiet “ow” before relaxing in his seat.

There’s a couple seconds of silence where everyone’s still processing the situation. Sapnap distracts himself from his frustrated thoughts by playing with his hand wraps, fidgeting with the worn fabric as he eventually grumbles, “I want to take out Eret right now.”

Quackity is quick to stop him. “Don’t, babe. We can’t start shit without strategizing it first.”

Sapnap supposes he is right about that. Still, it would be so easy. If Dream isn’t around, that is.

“What gives Dream the right to take away my kingship?” George mutters to himself.

“Fellas,” Quackity pipes up, drawing their attention towards him. “Immediately after they left, Dream sent me a message. A warning. He said not to start shit.”

This angers Sapnap. “They attacked us!” He grits out.

Quackity nods, “as a warning.”

He groans, shaking his head. “No. Dream’s fucked up this time. I’m with you boys. Whatever you boys want, I’m with you to the end.”

“I’m with you guys as well,” Quackity says. “Listen, I need you guys—“

“Hello.”

All four of them suddenly sit up in their seats, eyes flying to the front door. That voice—

Dream stands in the doorway, mask covering his entire face and axe clutched tightly in his hand. He’s tense, guarded. His godly aura causes the air to chill and pop at the same time—chaos incarnate. He greets them as enemies.

It’s unsettling, unusual—Sapnap is so used to his fiery energy joining the other’s in tandem. Now, he’s on the other side—he’s not mad about it.

“Dream,” George breathes, seemingly intrigued by his presence. His tone of voice makes Sapnap sick. “Why did you attack us?”

“Let’s have a very quick chat,” Dream proposes instead, remaining in the doorway. It’s always quick chats with him. He’s never willing to give them the time of day.

“George,” he says, immediately turning to aforementioned man. “How did you get king?”

Everyone knows the answer to that question, but Dream wants to hear them say it.

George doesn’t fall for it. “You already know the answer,” he shrugs.

Dream immediately moves on to defend himself. “Listen, you’re acting like _I’m_ the bad guy. It was my decision to give it to you, so it’s my decision to take it away from you. But now that your power is getting taken away from you, you’re mad—that’s called being a tyrant.”

“No.”

Dream groans and repeats, “that’s called being a tyrant!”

George, suddenly caring, sits up to defend himself. “No, listen, Eret made—“

Dream, naturally, doesn’t want to hear it. “No no, reflect on it, George—“

“Eret made—“

“Stop! You’re being a baby!”

“Eret made a mistake—“

“You’re being a baby!”

“—so we needed a new king—“

“You’re being a baby!”

“—and you assigned it to me!”

“ _You’re_ _being_ _a baby._ ”

Dream sounds out his last statement carefully, completely ignoring George’s words and causing the brunet to fall back against his chair in defeat. To emphasize his point, Dream adds, “that’s all you’re doing. Don’t start wars because you’re being a baby.”

George’s eyebrows knit together at the accusation and he loudly retorts, “how did I start a war?”

“You’re saying you want to overthrow Eret with the help of the Badlands—!”

“I haven’t agreed to that—“

“And now you’re lying!” Dream huffs, crossing his arms over his chest. “You’re being a baby!”

“What have you been hearing—“

“You’re whining and crying and being sad even though I appointed you in the first place,” Dream continues to rant, violently gesturing at George. “I removed Eret from the throne because he was getting involved in an act of war, but now that the war’s over, he’s been the most neutral person here. And I appointed you when you were building your cute little house during the war because you were the most neutral person then, but then you built Mexican L’Manberg, being in cahoots with the Vice President of L’Manberg, which isn’t being neutral.

“I don’t want that conflict, that’s why Eret is the better king,” Dream finishes, crossing his arms over his chest as a sort of ultimatum.

And George doesn’t try to argue. Maybe, like Sapnap, he understands Dream’s irritation. Doesn’t excuse his actions, though.

“Like, I’m sure even Sapnap, who’s mad at me, realizes that you’re just looking for an excuse to fight for power even though you lost it rightfully,” he says, gesturing to Sapnap. He furrows his eyebrows. What? No, he doesn’t agree with him in that regard. Dream, ignorant to Sapnap’s expression, waves casually and starts to step out. “Anyway, that’s all I wanted to say.”

“I disagree.”

They all turn to Quackity, who’s got a slightly baffled smirk on his face. Despite a mere mortal, he’s decided to face Dream’s anger full-on with a grin on his face. “I disagree with all of that.”

Dream looks him over, “then you are dumb, Quackity.”

George, Sapnap, and Bad all sputter at his blunt remark, but Quackity, unwilling to step down, is quick to retort, “I just don’t see it the same way you do!”

“You can’t just disagree with facts! You can’t just disagree with the fact that George is being a tyrant!” Dream shouts, pointing an aggressive finger to the ground. He’s clearly over this conversation.

But Quackity isn’t. He pushes back against Dream, unwilling to be intimidated into silence. “He’s not being a tyrant!”

“He is—“

“No, stop. Let’s look at everything that’s going on right now,” Quackity speaks over him, effectively shutting him up. Sapnap, preparing himself for a long argument, settles back against the wood as Quackity continues, “let’s look at the walls around L’Manberg. Let’s look at George’s dethronement. Let’s look at who attacked us. What does everything go back to?”

Dream ponders for a second before stupidly remarking, “Tommy?”

“What?” Quackity sputters before pointing an accusatory finger. “No, you! It goes back to you! Every single problem is because of you!”

“ _Me_?” He repeats, bewildered. “Every single problem is because of _me_?”

“Yeah!”

“Okay, fine. Let’s look at some problems. Schlatt was a problem, right? Who decided to give him the votes?” Dream asks, propping his axe on the ground and leaning on it as he waits for Quackity’s answer.

Quackity raises an eyebrow, a grin curling at his lips as realizes the answer to that question. “That was me.”

“Yeah! Did I do that? Did I give Schlatt power? Did I appoint Schlatt? I didn’t even vote for Schlatt!” Dream doesn’t even give Quackity a chance to respond. “And what is this war over? Tommy griefing George’s house. What about the discs? He gave me the discs then stole them back—why don’t you bring up another problem? I’ll tell you how it wasn’t me.

“I don’t cause the problems—I try and solve the problems,” he finishes.

Quackity is still smiling at him. After a couple beats, he hangs his head and sighs, “Dream, are you affiliated with any land, any group, anything specific?”

“Nope,” Dream replies, proud of his answer.

Quackity snaps his head back up. “So why are you getting involved in every single event that happens on this land?”

Dream can’t seem to figure out to respond to that, and Sapnap smirks at the silence that follows. Got ‘em.

The shapeshifter continues, “Tommy and I fucked up L’Manberg, that’s true. Let us deal with it. Why do you have to involve yourself in it?”

“I stand for the SMP—“

“Oh yeah, so—“

“Look, Quackity,” Dream bites. “You can say all you want that George is a better king than Eret, that’s fine, but that’s not your place. This is for the SMP. What does a king mean to you? It means nothing to you—you’re part of L’Manberg, which is an independent nation, and you’re trying to get involved in my politics. What does it matter to you? You’re just causing problems for no reason—“

“But I’m not the one causing problems here!” Quackity angrily interrupts him. “You’re causing problems and I’m just trying to address your logic—!”

“What does it matter to you what I do? You’re getting involved in _my_ politics—“

“Because you’re wrongfully controlling the entire land! Sapnap!” Quackity suddenly calls, wheeling around to face him. Sapnap snaps his head up in acknowledgement and raises his eyebrows, prompting his fiancé to continue. “Didn’t you say that it was Dream himself in the very beginning who established that no god would be the sole ruler of this land—?”

“That is neither here nor there, Quackity!” Dream roars, taking a dangerous step forward, axe in hand. “I’m not controlling anybody! I mean, I _let_ you guys create Mexican L’Manberg! Did I come to you and tell you that you can’t create it?”

“No, you didn’t—!”

“Right—“

“So, why are you faulting George for it?”

Dream pauses, “what?”

“You said you’re taking away his throne because he’s affiliated with Mexican L’Manberg!” Quackity says confidently, pointing out the flaw in Dream’s logic.

“No, that’s only a part of it! There are many reasons why I’m dethroning George, but the main reason is because I care about him!” George scoffs at this. Dream goes on to explain himself, “George has been getting attacked and his armor’s been getting stolen from him and I don’t want that.”

Quackity’s expression scrunches in confusion. “Did you consult him? Did you ask him, ‘hey, are you worried that people are hunting you?’” Dream tries to talk over him but he adds on, “you’re doing a whole lot of telling us what George wants instead of just letting him tell us instead!”

“No, listen, George is selfish and isn’t gonna give up the power that comes with the kingship—“ Quackity whispers a perplexed “what?” This is an unprecedented jump. “—and that’s the same reason why he’s trying to take it back now when he has no right to it!

“Like, he’s never even aware of anything that happens on the server! He just sleeps all the time, and when he is awake, he’s not being neutral at all! He’s not kept peace in any way whatsoever! He’s done a poor job ever since he’s been appointed—and you can disagree, that’s fine. You just can’t act on it, because you’re a part of L’Manberg, not the SMP.”

Dream gestures at George, “George can disagree if he wants to, but—well, I honestly didn’t expect him to disagree. I thought he would just accept it because he doesn’t care about this stuff. He’s just acting like he cares because it’s dramatic.”

He pauses his rant, collecting his thoughts in order to make his next point. Sapnap, Bad, and George have been quiet, listening to Dream feverishly defend his actions, but suddenly George speaks up from where he’s slumped in his chair. With a humorless glint in his eye, he mutters darkly, “that’s what you think.”

“No, that’s what I know,” Dream replies instantly. You can hear the smirk on his lips and it’s disgusting. He glances up at George to look him in eye. “Sapnap and Quackity don’t; Sapnap’s just mad and Quackity’s just gotta get involved in everything—“

George hums instead, leaning forward in his chair in order to mock him. “Oh yeah, you think you know me _so_ _well_.”

Dream tenses suddenly at that, their gazes locked as they stare at each other and allow the words to sink in. He certainly didn’t expect George to snap back like that.

Sapnap hopes it hurts.

After letting the tension hang in the air for a couple seconds, George looks away, noticeably brushing his fingers against the gash in his stomach.

“Anyway,” Dream mutters, distractedly. He’s trying to move on from what just happened.

“At the end of the day,” Quackity speaks up, saving Dream from his misery, “it seems to me that you just want control over anything you can get control over. You said I’m not part of the SMP but I’m part of L’Manberg—what’s surrounding L’Manberg right now?” He gestures out the window, down at where L’Manberg sits.

Dream makes a show of following Quackity’s line of sight. He lamely replies, “…walls.”

“Yeah, and who put them there?” Quackity taunts. “Yeah, it was you, who’s a part of the SMP. You want me to focus on the problems in L’Manberg? Fine, I will. But you can’t turn around and get involved in them, too. Not when you’ve clearly stated that you’re a part of the SMP—“

“Well, that’s not my fault,” Dream says, immediately on the defensive. “The walls were Tommy’s fault—“

“Oh, so now you’re blaming Tommy for this? Tommy built all those walls? Wow, that’s crazy,” Quackity leans back in his chair and laughs, confident that he’s in the right here and playing it up in order to get underneath Dream’s skin. The others hop in to contribute their own displeasure.

“Dream sure does a whole lot of blaming other people,” George snarks in a monotone voice.

“Dream, I know that you think what you’re doing is right, but I think you’re doing the wrong thing here,” Sapnap speaks up, agreeing with his friends’ distrust.

Dream glances over at him, quiet for a moment, then shrugs. “That’s fine. But my appointment of Eret is selfless. You’re acting like I’m doing it for selfish reasons in order to have control. But actually, appointing Eret gives me less control because he doesn’t automatically do what I say. George would probably do just about anything I tell him to do.

“But whatever,” he throws his hands up in mock surrender, “you can be mad about it, but if you try and do anything, you’ll just lose. You’ll die and lose all your stuff,” he finishes. For such a threatening proposition, he mentions it so nonchalantly. He scans the four of them, noting the sour looks being aimed in his direction. He promptly ignores their displeasure. “Okay?”

“…whatever,” Quackity mumbles under his breath. Sapnap agrees. What can they say to that? Given the events that just transpired today with Quackity and George getting hurt, Dream is unfortunately right.

“Good,” he sighs. “Now, good bye.”

And without warning, Dream turns around, steps out into the night, and pearls away. He leaves on his own terms. Naturally.

It’s finally silent. Everyone is stewing in their frustration, displeased with Dream. He’s finally shown his true colors—how he actually feels about them. To him, they just seem to get in the way of his plans. He doesn’t care about them. He doesn’t care about his friendship.

Sapnap tries to will the tears away.

Dream doesn’t care about anything on this SMP.

He’s the ruler of this god damn land, and anyone who tries to question that will die a painful death. No exceptions.

Sapnap’s eyes lazily fall upon his best friend.

Not even for George.

Not even for George…


	2. Chapter 2

He’s warm. And comfortable. And it’s peacefully quiet, save for the muffled sounds of falling rain coming from the ceiling.

It’s so calming, and George just wants to bask in it.

But at the sound of someone coughing, he realizes he isn’t alone.

Prying his eyelids open, George blinks in the dark. The first things he sees are glowing specs—his chat. They’re dancing around his field of view, suddenly cheering and picking up speed when they notice his eyes opening. He smiles at them weakly, still half-asleep.

“Hello,” he murmurs, voice breaking from lack of use. They jingle a greeting back at him.

“George?” The other person speaks up, tone soft with worry.

It’s the same thing every time George wakes up.

“Yeah, I’m up, I’m up,” he rasps, turning over to the other side to see who’s here with him. It’s Sapnap. He’s sitting in the chair that’s usually propped up beside his bed, fully dressed in netherite armor. His arms are crossed over his chest as he lounges, legs spread out to allow for as much comfort as one can get when they’re sitting in bulky armor. He looks sad.

George yawns, “how long was I out this time?”

Sapnap shrugs, avoiding his eyes. “2 months?”

“Oh,” he murmurs, pulling his lethargic arms up from underneath the covers. They’re as heavy as lead, and he struggles with the simple task of rubbing his eyes. “When did I pass out? What did I miss?”

“You passed out the morning after Dream dethroned you,” he explains, gravely. George squints his eyes in confusion. Oh right, he forgot about that. “He stabbed you, but that’s also all healed up now.”

George hums, “so where is he now? I would’ve expected him to be at my bedside, just waiting to apologize to me as soon as possible.” He’s joking, making fun of Dream’s obvious care for him, but he’s just as eager to see the man himself. It really is a surprise to not find him there, waiting for him to wake up. Especially given how long he’s been out for.

But Sapnap, instead of giving George an answer like he expects, sighs. And he leans forward to rub at his eyebrows. And he sighs again. It’s really annoying, actually, and George would really prefer if he stopped.

“Sapnap,” he prompts again.

“He’s uh,” Sapnap begins, still avoiding his eyes. “He’s actually in prison, George.”

George blinks, disbelieving. This is a joke. “Ha ha, very funny, Sapnap.”

“I’m not kidding, George.”

“No, please go on, this is a really funny bit—“

“George, please,” he begs, finally meeting George’s eyes. “I’m not kidding. He’s gone. He’s in prison, and he’s not getting out of there.”

George searches his eyes. They’re so solemn—god, is he actually being serious? “He’s a god, Sapnap.”

“And he built the prison himself, alongside Sam,” Sapnap sighs. “He’s not getting out of there.”

“…how did they get him in there in the first place?”

“We, uh, we all came together. Me, Punz, Sam, Callahan, Ponk, Bad, Ant, Eret, Captain Puffy—we all came and threatened him to give up. And he did. He knew he couldn’t take all of us on.”

“…why did you do that?”

Sapnap’s head snaps up, expression slightly hurt. “Because he doesn’t give a shit about anything. And he’s hurt a lot of people. Me, Tommy, you—George, he blew up the community house.”

George gasps. He what? There’s no way. “You’re lying.”

“I’m not. He admitted to it,” Sapnap sniffs, tears pooling in his eyes as the gravity of the situation sinks in. “Would I ever lie to you about something like that, George?”

“No, I guess you wouldn’t,” he acknowledges. He doesn’t speak for a second, pondering this new information. “So he’s in prison. For how long?”

“Forever.”

“…and we can’t see him?”

“We can. I haven’t, yet. I’m still trying to gather up the courage to,” he glances away for a second before admitting, “I can’t face him yet. It’s just… It’s hard to believe that he’s the same Dream that we founded this place with.”

“Yeah,” George mutters, distractedly. Sapnap is pouring out his feelings to him when he hasn’t even figured out his own. It’s overwhelming. He can’t do this right now.

“But it’s okay, George,” he says suddenly, reaching over to lay a protective hand on George’s bicep. “I’m still here. I can still protect you. Okay?”

George nodes mutely.

“Good,” Sapnap finalizes, sniffing. He gets to his feet. “I’ll give you time to readjust. Do you want me to help with anything?”

Honestly, George just wants to be alone right now.

“No, that’s okay.”

“Do you want me to hang around anyway?”

“No, that’s okay.”

“Oh. Well, do you want me to wait outside for you? We can go for a walk if you’d like.”

“No, that’s okay.”

“…you sure?” Sapnap sounds hurt, but George is too overwhelmed right now to care all that much.

“Yeah, just go on back home. I’ll message you if I need anything.”

“…okay,” he murmurs dejectedly. He shuffles toward the door. “Just let me know. Okay?”

“Okay.”

Sapnap pauses and stares at him for a few seconds. He’s got those puppy dog eyes, but George doesn’t crack. Sapnap’s tough; he’ll be fine, he’s just pitching a fit.

Finally, he leaves, the creaky door of George’s cottage home snapping shut behind him and echoing throughout the place. He sighs through his nose, ignoring the slight guilt welling up in his stomach. His chat certainly doesn’t help, as they chastise him for not being kinder to Sapnap when the man’s clearly upset.

“I’m upset, too, okay?” he says in defense. Immediately, they coo, sad to hear that. He frowns, feeling even more guilty at upsetting them. But he brushes it off and instead coerces himself up and out of bed.

It’s always tough, relearning how to move after every coma. He wishes he could snap his fingers and be right as rain within seconds, but obviously, he cannot. So he spends the next hour taking small baby steps until eventually he’s pulled himself to his feet. He makes sure to stretch for a good thirty minutes, per Bad’s constant reminder, then wobbles on over to the netherite armor that’s clearly been stowed in his closet.

_Hydrate!_ The chat shouts. _Eat!_

“I’m getting to that,” George chuckles, fondly. And he does, after he dons his armor and retrieves his tools. He always feels so much safer with them on. He’s giggling along with chat as he strolls down the hall to his kitchen, but it isn’t until he’s sitting down at the table to eat a meal that he realizes that nothing feels right.

It’s too quiet. It’s too empty. It’s too…

Lonely.

The chat prod at his still fork, and he snaps back to reality, smiling in amusement before taking a bite of his steak. The chat cheer.

Even with them here.

He casts a forlorn glance towards the counter. It’s not hard to visualize him there, sitting on top of the clean wooden counters like he normally does, mask discarded on the surface next to him. It’s not even hard to visualize his smile.

“He’s really gone?” He mutters.

The chat hum sadly in confirmation.

He takes another bite of his food, but it tastes bland. Rubbery.

“Surely he can break himself out?”

The chat tell him no, he can’t. They mention obsidian walls, waterfalls of lava, and mining fatigue.

“Mining fatigue? Really?”

It’s true, apparently.

“Has anyone tried? Like, even with a netherite pickaxe?”

No, no one has tried. No one wants to. Everyone’s glad he’s in there.

“Even Sapnap?”

Even Sapnap.

“…how about we go check it out?”

They perk up at that. _To talk to Dream?_

He hums, “no.”

“Woah, it’s big,” he comments. The chat agrees, some giggling into his ears with a that’s-what-she-said joke.

Thankfully, he’s finally learned how to walk again, and it’s for this reason alone that he finds himself near the entrance of the walkway to Bad and Skeppy’s mansion, overlooking the black abyss that’s known as the prison. It’s hard to believe that Dream’s there, completely powerless. It’s hard to imagine Dream powerless at all.

Still, George presses on, unable to look away from it as he takes the long route around Bad and Skeppy’s mansion. Once he’s gotten within a certain distance of it, there’s a sudden bell chime in his ears, and he is suddenly feeling all sluggish again.

“What’s that? Is that the mining fatigue?” The chat confirms that it is, a couple of them shuddering and commenting on how scary it sounds. He can’t help but somewhat agree.

The prison is even bigger up close, George realizes as he steps up to the shore. It’s a little much, given that it only houses 1 person, but whatever. It’s not his design.

Looking at where the waves crash up against the sides of it, George searches for a spot that someone could possibly climb up on. Walking around the shore, he spots a little cranny near the corner on the side. He glances around, scanning the area for anyone who could be eavesdropping. Luckily, he spots no one. Before he can even begin to question himself, George turns back to the water and dives in.

It’s even harder for him to swim, given that he’s just woken up from a 2 month long coma and that he’s been infected with mining fatigue, but he still manages to get across. The obsidian is slippery when he initially latches onto it, and it’s nothing but a struggle to pull himself up on top of it. Gosh, with all the energy he’s spending on this, he might need a nap soon.

He takes a couple seconds to catch his breath as his chat screams into his ears and bonks at his head in an attempt to get him to see reason. They shout about how scary Sam is and all the penalties that come with messing with the security system, but George is quick to wave them off. “I’m just giving it a look, I’m not actually doing anything.”

The chat relaxes at this.

George pulls out a pickaxe.

The chat starts screaming again.

He starts mining away at the wall. To his surprise, the obsidian gives. That is, until he realizes that he’s mining at some Blackstone. Blackstone? Really? That’s poor security. He scans the wall again, noticing that it actually alternates between the Blackstone and obsidian. Interesting. Still, poor security. He continues to mine away at the Blackstone.

The chat won’t let up, though, and it’s actually starting to annoy George. Aren’t they supposed to be supporting him? Don’t they understand?

_He needs to stay in there!_ They insist.

“No, I’ve gotta get him out,” George argues, unable to hide the desperation in his voice.

_You have Sapnap!_

“You don’t understand,” he gasps, urgently hacking away.

_Gogy, please! Your friends are still here!_

“But none of them are him!” He cries, raising the pickaxe high above his head. “I need him! I need Dream!”

The Blackstone shatters under the force of his pickaxe, and everyone freezes, stunned into silence.

He… He actually broke it.

The chat’s shouting, curses flying left and right as they whiz around George’s head in fear. George, meanwhile, can only stare at the hole he’s created in disappointment. Behind that stone was obsidian. More obsidian. And how much will be behind that one? How much until he reaches him? And how long will he be able to go before he’s caught? Before he’s killed on sight?

He falls to his knees, the sobs ripping themselves from his throat before he even has a chance to stop them.

The world suddenly feels cold.

And dark.

And so so lonely.

_He deserves to be in there_ , the chat tells him.

That’s fine. But that doesn’t mean he agrees with it.

_He’s a bad person. He hurt you_. They remind him.

Yeah, he did. But—

Well, Sapnap was right. He’s always been right.

George could never hate Dream, even if he wanted to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> that's all! :) i hope you enjoyed my own little interpretation of everything
> 
> please feel free to leave a comment! hope y'all have a good day :)


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